


Never Let Me Go

by thevictorianghost



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Titanic (1997)
Genre: (like a lot of Mai bashing I'm sorry for Mai fans), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extramarital Affairs, F/F, F/M, Forced Kiss, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mai bashing, Nudity, Period-Typical Ableism, Period-Typical Classism, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Physical Abuse, RMS Titanic, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt, Zutara Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 124,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevictorianghost/pseuds/thevictorianghost
Summary: When Asami Sato, treasure hunter, stumbled upon a drawing buried at the bottom of the ocean, she found the love story of a lifetime.In 1912, when Zuko Kai and Katara La, a firebender and a waterbender from two different worlds, boarded Titanic, they had no idea that fate, destiny, or perhaps luck, would allow them to find each other. Just in time.Zutara Titanic AU. Complete.
Relationships: Aang/Toph Beifong, Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Blue Spirit/Painted Lady, Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Korra/Asami Sato, Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Ty Lee/Original Female Character
Comments: 212
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

_Looking up from underneath  
Fractured moonlight on the sea _

* * *

“We are here.”

Darkness. That’s what Asami saw first. An endless pit of darkness. Water so dense it threatened to collapse their submarines in on themselves. She closed her eyes. Had she been a waterbender, she’d bet she’d be able to feel the weight of the ocean upon them. She tried not to think about it. _Tried_ was the key word here.

“Come left a little,” said Mako behind her. “She’s right in front of us, eighteen meters. Fifteen… Thirteen... you should see it.”

“Do you see it?” asked Bolin. “I don't see it... there!”

That’s when Asami saw her. Their submarines’ lights hit her, illuminating first the railings, then the enormous mass underneath. A dead hull. A fallen giant, rising from the shadows. Green rust clung to her eroding metal. She glowed a soft blue under their submarines’ lights, but Asami couldn’t stop herself from shivering. In awe and fear. This ship had been the sight of a terrifying loss of life. But this ship was also going to make her _rich_. 

The R.M.S. _Titanic_.

Their submarines hung above the hull, looking for the entryway inside.

“Okay, we’re rolling,” said Bolin, pulling his camera to his eye.

“It still gets me every time,” whispered Asami, voice thick with emotion. 

“It’s just the guilt from stealing from the dead.”

“Thanks, Mako. Work with me, here.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Bolin fiddling with a camera. 

“To see the sad ruin of the great ship sitting here, where she landed at 2:30 in the morning, April 15, 1912, after her long fall from the world above.”

Mako snorted.

“You are so full of shit, boss.”

The two submarines continued down the length of the ship, past the bow. Asami imagined hundreds of tiny people, dressed in fancy dresses and top hats, walking along where now, there was nothing but rust, rot and fishes swimming about. 

“Dive nine,” said Asami. She picked up Bolin’s camera herself and pointed it at her porthole. Pulling on her best teacher voice, she continued: “Here we are again on the deck of _Titanic_... two and a half miles down. The pressure is three tons per square inch, enough to crush us like a freight train going over an ant if our hull fails.”

Their tiny submarine continued down the length of the hull, endless in this vast darkness. There was nothing else for miles, yet here she was, buried at sea.

“These windows are nine inches thick,” explained Asami to her camera and Mako and Bolin, “and if they go, it's sayonara in two microseconds.”

Their submarine landed on the deck, next to the Officers’ Quarters.

They were there, once again.

“Right. Let’s get to work.”

A small robot detached from their submarine. Mako pulled on the electronic goggles. Lucky bastard, he got to do the fun part. Though she also didn’t mind watching the cameras as the robot continued on its merry way. The little robot started its descent into eternal night, guided by Mako’s hands grabbing the joysticks.

“Walkin’ the dog,” he grinned.

The robot descended down a few decks, until it reached the First Class Reception area. Then, at a sharp horizontal angle, the robot entered the ship. It barely fit through a doorway that had once been made of glass, but of which remained half the double doors, with its sculptural detail and basic structure, green like everything else. As Mako mentioned, the robot continued on its way down, past the staircase. 

As the robot reached one of the decks, Asami saw glimpses of _Titanic_ ’s luxury.

A chandelier glinting in the light. Boots and glasses, forgotten for a long, long time. The discarded face of a child’s doll, eyes and body gone. Darkness fell upon these fallen artefacts as the robot pressed on, never stopping for a moment.

They finally reached the room Asami was waiting for. A smile stretched on her face. Excitement bubbled in her stomach.

“Watch the door frame,” she warned. “Watch it, watch it…”

“I got it, I got it.”

The robot squeezed through the door frame. Barely.

“We’re good, we’re good. Just chill, boss.”

A fish appeared in the light, ghostly and pale. The robot’s light went past a fallen table to a mantle, still almost fully intact, with its clock in front of a mirror. A piano soon appeared, amazingly preserved, with its keys all fully attached. Everything was so peaceful, it was eerie. As if inanimate objects were dead, too. 

“Right there, right there, right there…” Asami jumped up. She pointed at the screen. “Do you see it? Do you see it?”

“I see it.”

Following Mako’s orders, the robot crossed into the bedroom. They were getting closer. Asami could feel it. There, what was that, contrasting against the light? Yes, that was a bed frame! They were there. They’d arrived.

“Okay, I want to see what's under that wardrobe door.”

“Gimme my hands, man.”

The robot’s arms extruded from its body with a low hum. Its hands, shaped like pincers, reached for the fallen wardrobe. With extreme delicacy, Mako lifted the door. It fell away, lifting a cloud of dust. Asami held her breath. If anything collapsed, it was over. But she exhaled. Nothing moved. The dust settled. 

Then, it appeared.

“Oh, baby, baby!” said Bolin. “Are you seeing this, boss? It’s payday, boys!”

Asami arched an eyebrow.

“Boys?” 

“Guys. Ladies. People. Sorry.”

“None taken.”

Asami was too happy to be mad. Later on, everyone gathered on deck, joy spreading fast amongst the crew. It took them a couple hours to get back up and to get the safe from inside _Titanic_ ’s hull. It landed on the deck with a _thud!_ Someone patted Asami on the back. Someone else squeezed her arm. She wasn’t sure who, but all of them showed the same wide grin she did. Mako even opened a bottle of champagne, covering everyone in bubbly goodness. 

“Who’s the best?” asked Mako, wrapping an arm around Asami. “Say it!”

“You are, Mako.”

He kissed her cheek and she pushed him away.

“Don’t give anyone any ideas. We’re _not_ dating. Not anymore!”

“I know, boss. I know.”

A saw hissed to life as one of the crewmembers set out to open the safe. Metal screeched against metal. Orange sparks flew.

“Well, here it is,” she said to a camera, “the moment of truth. Here's where we find out if the time, the sweat, the money spent to charter this ship and these subs, to come out here to the middle of the North Atlantic... were worth it. 

When the safe cracked open, brown liquid flooded out. Everyone groaned.

That fucking _smelled_.

Asami bit back her disgust. She reached inside. She touched rotten… stuff. What exactly, she wasn’t particularly certain she wanted to know. Asami pulled out something. A large stack of papers, bound together. Something like a large sketchbook. 

But no diamond.

Asami slumped in on herself. Disappointment settled in her gut.

“Shit.”

“You know, boss,” said Bolin, not without an ounce of sympathy in his voice, “this happened to the Mechanist and his career never recovered.”

Asami’s eyes landed on the camera, pointed at her face.

“Get that outta my face.”

If Asami had made a bet to figure out how long it would take her investors to call about the treasure, she would have lost. Somehow, they called not even five minutes into their disgusting brown discovery. Speaking of disgusting brown discovery, Teo, their best technician, was analyzing the sketchbook using water, rubbing away a century of filth. She put on a brave face and her voice didn’t shake when she said, putting a hand against her ear:

“Hi, Amon? Kuvira? Zaheer? Look, it wasn't in the safe… no, look, don't worry about it, there're still plenty of places it could be... in the floor debris in the suite, in the father's room, in the Purser's safe on C deck…”

Something caught Asami’s eye. She looked through the monitor at a zoomed-in version of the paper the technician was currently watering clean. A face appeared, beautiful, young, with short, chin-length hair. One eye - the one on the left - was half-closed, covered in a somewhat darker shade than his skin. A scar, probably. He was… a man. A man who also wasn’t… wearing anything, at least from the waist up. The rest of him - or what Asami assumed would be the rest of him - was still obscured by grime and dirt. Yet what really caught Asami’s eye was the necklace the young man wore. Mako grabbed the phone and hung up on their investors. At her command, Bolin brought over a picture of the necklace. 

The Heart of the Ocean.

Asami ran her thumb over a date that had been scratched in the bottom right corner. _April 14, 1912._ Next to two initials _. K.L._

The day of the ship’s sinking.

“I’ll be Spirits damned.”

* * *

Katara La was hunched over her pottery wheel. Somewhere in the kitchen, the television played, but she didn’t particularly pay any attention. Her old hands, covered in spots, pressed against the clay, thinning the sides of the bowl. Then, a word reached her ear. A simple word, but one that sent chills down her spine.

_Titanic._

“Treasure hunter Asami Sato,” was saying the announcer that Katara couldn’t care enough to identify, “is best known for finding Spanish gold in sunken galleons in the Caribbean. Now she is using deep submergence technology to work two and a half miles down at another famous wreck... the _Titanic_. She is with us live via satellite from a Japanese research ship in the middle of the Atlantic. Hello, Asami?”

Katara turned around. 

“Yes, hi,” said a woman, holding a phone to her ear. “You know, _Titanic_ is not just a shipwreck, _Titanic_ is THE shipwreck. It's the Mount Everest of shipwrecks.”

Grabbing her cane, Katara rose to her feet, slower than she used to, and crossed the room to the kitchen, where the television rested upon the counter. Korra, a friend of the family who was there to take care of her, spun around, kettle in one hand. 

“What is it?”

Katara waved impatiently at the television.

“Turn that up, dear.”

Korra obeyed. Louder in her ears, the announcer was saying:

“Your expedition is at the center of a storm of controversy over salvage rights and even ethics. Many are calling you a grave robber.”

“Nobody called the recovery of the artifacts from King Tut's tomb grave robbing. I have museum-trained experts here, making sure this stuff is preserved and catalogued properly. Look at this drawing, which was found today…”

The camera moved from Asami to a sheet of paper on a table. A… 

“... a piece of paper that's been underwater for eighty-four years... and my team are able to preserve it intact. Should this have remained unseen at the bottom of the ocean for eternity, when we can see it and enjoy it now...?”

Katara squinted her eyes. Then, it dawned on her.

Oh. 

_Oh._

“I’ll be Spirits damned.”

* * *

Night had fallen around their ship like a blanket, full of twinkling stars and calm, cool waters. Asami watched, hands on her hips, as the submarines were being launched for another mission. She was going back for that necklace. At all costs. When someone tapped on her shoulder, she spun around, ready to tell them to fuck right off. It was Bolin. She almost sighed at that. He’d never take “go fuck yourself” as a threat.

“There’s a satellite call for you.”

“Bolin, we're launching,” said Asami, annoyance unraveling at her paper thin patience at the moment. “See these submersibles here, going in the water? Take a message.”

“No, trust me, ma’am, you want to take this call.”

“It better be good.”

Bolin showed Asami to the phone they always kept on deck. He gave her the receiver, then made a comment about speaking up because she was “kind of old”. Great. An old lady who called a treasure hunter’s ship out in the middle of the ocean?

“This is Asami Sato. What can I do for you, Mrs…?”

“La. Katara La,” said Bolin.

“... Mrs. La?”

A voice, shrivelled but full of teasing, spoke on the other side of the phone. Speaking in tones that meant she knew more than Asami. And she did.

“I was wondering if you had found the Heart of the Ocean yet, Miss Sato.”

Asami’s eyes widened. Bolin barked a laugh.

“I told you you wanted to take this call!”

“Alright.” Asami put her hand over her other ear, shielding it from the launch’s rumbles. “You have my attention, Katara. Can you tell me who the man in the picture is?”

“Oh, yes. That was a man named Zuko Kai. I can also tell you who drew it, too.”

“Yes? Who did it, then?”

“The woman who drew that picture… is me.”

* * *

It took them a few days to fly Katara La to the ship. Anticipation grew amongst the crew, though Mako tended to keep it to himself. He finally confronted Asami about his foul mood the exact day when she was set to arrive. Or, more accurately, he pestered her all the way from her cabin’s door to the top deck.

“She's a Spirits damned liar!” he almost growled. Wow, he’d really been holding that in for too long, huh? “Like that... what's her name? That Anastasia babe.”

Asami rolled her eyes. Only Mako could call Grand Duchess Anastasia a _babe._

“She says he's Zuko Kai, right? Zuko Kai died on _Titanic_. At the age of twenty. If he'd've lived, he'd be over a hundred now. And I bet she’d be, too!”

“One hundred and two next month,” Asami corrected.

“Okay, so she's a _very old_ Spirits damned liar. There’s no sign of a Katara La on the _Titanic_ either. But I traced her as far back as the Twenties... she was working as an artist in L.A. A con artist I bet! She’s just a lonely old woman who’s been living in Chippewa Falls a little too long and has to lie to entertain herself. Can’t you see that, Asami?”

She stopped on deck and turned on him, index finger pointed at his chest.

“And everybody who knows about the diamond is supposed to be dead... or on this ship. But _she_ knows about it. And I want to hear what she has to say. Got it?”

He didn’t have anything to say to that.

When their helicopter, the Sea Stallion, landed on board, Mako and Bolin first helped Katara’s wheelchair down. Mako pushed Katara away and Bolin carried her seemingly hundreds of bags while a little dog trotted after them. Asami offered Korra a hand. 

“Asami.”

“Korra.”

Asami was handled a fish bowl with two fishes in there. One black with a white spot and a white one with a black spot. Beautiful. Yet strange.

Asami stared after Katara.

“What in Agni is going on on my ship?”

Asami followed after Bolin and Mako to Katara’s room. By the time she made it there, Katara was somehow finishing putting up a dozen or so old pictures, all in black and white, upon her dresser. Asami smiled. She actually liked the old woman. Even if she seemed a bit… quirky. Behind her, though, she saw Mako roll his eyes.

“Is your stateroom all right?”

“Yes,” said Katara. “Very nice. Oh!” She put her hand over Korra’s hand, which she had gently put on Katara’s shoulder a few seconds ago. With a sly smile, she said: “Have you met my young friend Korra? She’s a friend of the family.”

“Yes,” said Korra, leaning over Katara’s shoulder. “We met just a few minutes ago, Auntie Katara. Remember, up on deck?”

“Oh!” She waved her hand meaninglessly. “Yes.”

Mako rolled his eyes again.

“There, that's nice. I have to have my pictures when I travel.” She turned to the little dog, standing off to the side. “And Naga, of course. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Naga barked. A high-pitched “waf!” kind of bark.

“Would you like anything?” 

Katara’s eyes lit up when she turned to Asami.

“I should like to see my drawing.”

* * *

Katara didn’t exactly… fit in the laboratory. Not that they weren’t able to get her down there at all. They had a ramp and everything was wheelchair accessible; Teo, their best technician Asami explained, had needed it months beforehand. No, Katara didn’t fit in the laboratory because everything down here looked so… sterile. Meanwhile here she was, all soft blues and muted greys, with always that knowing smile on her face. She leaned over the tray of water in which the drawing was still submerged, for conservation’s sake.

A wet sort of recognition dawned in Katara’s eyes. She held her breath. Yes. There it was. Her drawing. She’d seen on the television, but it was nothing compared to the real deal. When Katara closed her eyes, memories flashed behind her eyelids. Her holding a charcoal pen. A young man sitting in front of her, with only a necklace for clothes.

Katara snapped her eyes open.

Asami reached over for a tiny picture, which she showed Katara.

“Louis the Sixteenth wore a fabulous stone, called the Blue Diamond of the Crown,” she explained in what Katara presumed was a seasoned University Professor’s voice. “Which disappeared in 1792, about the time Louis lost everything from the neck up. The theory goes that the crown diamond was chopped too. Recut into a heart-like shape. And it becam _e Le Coeur de la Mer_. The Heart of the Ocean.” She looked over at Korra, leaning over Katara’s shoulder. Then, she continued: “Today it would be worth more than the Hope Diamond.”

“He told me…” Katara scoffed. “He told me it was a dreadful, heavy thing.” She pointed at the picture. “I only held it for less than a minute. And he only wore it this once.”

“You actually believe this is him, Auntie Katara?”

“It is him, dear. I’d recognize my own drawing everywhere! Wasn’t he a dish?”

“I tracked it down through insurance records”, continued Asami. “An old claim that was settled under terms of absolute secrecy. Do you know who the claimant was, Katara?”

“Someone named Agni, I should imagine.”

Asami shared a glance with Mako. He looked at least interested at that.

“Ukano Agni, right. Japanese steel tycoon. For a diamond necklace his daughter Mai Agni bought in France for her fiancé... Zuko... a week before she sailed on _Titanic_. And the claim was filed right after the sinking. So the diamond had to have gone down with the ship.”

Katara nodded sagely, then looked away.

“See the date?” asked Korra. She pointed at the bottom right corner of the drawing, awe in her voice. “April 14, 1912.”

“If your Auntie is who she says she is, she saw the last person wearing the diamond the day the _Titanic_ sank.” To Katara, Asami said: “And that makes you my new best friend.” 

They brought out artefacts from the sinking. Boxes upon boxes upon boxes of artefacts. Taken, stolen. But stolen from what? From whom? From the ghosts who still were on the ship, dancing the night away or eating dinner at the tables? What they thought were artefacts, to Katara, were objects she remembered Zuko had touched, objects she remembered him interacting with. Her hand curled around a mirror’s handle.

“This was Zuko’s. How extraordinary! It looks the same as the last time I saw it.” When she looked in the mirror, she almost laughed. “The reflection has changed a bit.”

Her hand hovered above the objects. It landed on one. She lifted it. Reverently.

“This was Zuko’s headpiece.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “For his top knot. I found him dashing with it in his hair.”

Asami crouched down next to Katara. Her voice was soft when she asked:

“Are you ready to go back to _Titanic_?”

The young men Asami had said were Mako and Bolin showed Katara a dreadful video. While Asami had mentioned that maybe Katara didn’t want to watch it, she said it was fine. Curiosity gnawed at her. It represented the _Titanic_ sinking, how it had cracked in half, rose up vertically, then landed upon the ocean floor. Katara watched with a tight-lipped smile, unable to look away. For those people, this was fascinating. _Cool_. To her, it was…

“Thank you for that fine forensic analysis, Mako and Bolin. Of course, the experience of it was somewhat less... clinical.”

“Will you share it with us?” asked Asami.

Katara rose up from her chair and walked over to the wall of screens. Beyond were green ruins of what she had once known, maybe not as intimately as Zuko had, but she had still been there. When she looked at a door, a flash appeared in her mind. Two men opening the doors for her, on that night going to dinner in First Class. Katara’s eyes flooded with tears. With one shaky breath, she buried her face in her hands.

It was too much. Too much…

A hand wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her along.

“I’m taking her to rest,” said Korra.

“No! I can do what I want.”

_I'll be outside if you're man enough to fight me!_

Katara dropped her arms. Her eyes turned to blue steel. She stared Korra down, remembering a time when men had told her she wasn’t enough, couldn’t be enough. Mako, gentle for once, pulled out a chair and Katara sat down. She took a deep breath.

“Okay, Katara.” Korra raised her hands. “We’ll listen.”

She took in a deep breath. Gathered her thoughts.

“It’s been… eighty-four years…”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember everything,” encouraged Asami. 

Katara smiled at that. 

“Do you want me to tell you the story or not?”

Everyone shut up. Good.

“It's been eighty-four years…” Katara breathed in. In and out. “... and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in. _Titanic_ was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was. It really was…”


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

* * *

_Reflections still look the same to me_

_As before I went under_

* * *

Zuko rose up with the sun as he always did.

With a fluffy towel slung over his naked shoulder, he stepped out in the mansion’s back courtyard, upon the tiled floor. First, he sat down and meditated for over an hour. Breathing. Then, he started practicing his firebending forms. By the time someone else was awake, he had progressed from basic forms to advanced ones, backflips and kicks, feet and pumped fists creating balls of fire. He jumped when he heard a voice, behind him.

“Very good, nephew.”

Zuko spun around and bowed respectfully at his uncle. Warmth grew in his stomach when he saw the tray of tea - jasmine, he presumed - in Uncle Iroh’s hands. Iroh chuckled.

“Would you like to join me?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

Zuko rubbed the sweat out of his neck and back. He plopped down next to Uncle on their favourite bench, by the entrance to the hedge maze. It was quiet out here, at least for a time. Before too long, it would be a chaos of packing and leaving. For now, Zuko closed his eyes, listening to the rustle of leaves in the trees and feeling the breeze on his face. He drank down his tea with his eyes closed, enjoying its sweet taste sliding down his throat. He could feel Uncle Iroh’s gaze upon him, so he opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Delicious, as usual.”

“Thank you! I try my very best.”

More silence fell upon them. Soon enough, Zuko’s cup was empty and he clutched the porcelain tightly in his hands. He tried to cherish the quietness, but heavy thoughts plagued his mind. Today, everything would change. They were bound for sailing to America. Soon, he’d be married to Mai. And then, he wouldn’t have Uncle Iroh’s tea every day. He’d be all alone, isolated from the only person he really cared for. Even the next day, things already would be different. Father was selling the mansion. A desperate bid to deal with his Mother’s debts. Zuko clenched his jaw at the thought of his mother. If only…

“Your mind is a blizzard, I can feel it, Zuko.”

Zuko nodded. When Uncle Iroh poured him more tea, he drank.

“I’m thinking about… everything.”

“Everything at once, hm?”

“Yeah.”

At first, Zuko didn’t want to elaborate. But then, he realized he didn’t really want to keep it all to himself, either. His Uncle was the only one willing to listen, anyway.

“About the voyage, the wedding, my destiny, what’s been set in stone for me.”

“Oh!”

Uncle Iroh rubbed his chin, pulling on his beard.

“Destiny is a funny thing,” he said in that soothing voice of his. “You never know how things are going to work out.” Uncle sent him a sidelong glance. “But if you keep an open mind and an open heart, I promise you will find your own destiny someday.”

“Right.”

As if his destiny hadn’t been chosen for him the day he was born.

“Azula was always the lucky one. Not me.”

_My father says she was born lucky; he says I was lucky to be born._

“I don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight, and that's made me strong. That's made me who I am.”

Uncle Iroh nodded. Then, he looked up at the mansion.

“And who are you, Zuko?”

“Who am I?”

Uncle, ever so enigmatic, didn’t answer for a moment. He rose from his seat and packed up his tea. He grasped Zuko’s now once again empty cup and put it away with the others. Then, once he was at his tallest, Uncle Iroh looked at Zuko.

“You’re the only one who can decide who you are and who you want to be.”

With that, Iroh started walking back towards the mansion. Zuko was about to go back to his firebending practice when a head appeared at a window, high up on the second floor. Azula’s voice rang loud and clear in his ears, mocking as always. Behind her, he thought he could see Ty Lee there, and maybe a hint of Mai.

His fiancée.

“Hurry up, Zuzu! We’ll be late for the trip of a lifetime!”

The trip of a lifetime. Sure.

He crawled back to his rooms and washed off the sweat of his training. He finally slipped on his travelling suit. Zuko pulled his hair up into a top knot and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked like the perfect boy, the perfect _rich_ boy. Not himself, that was for sure. He hesitated on his way out the door. His eyes turned to his closet. Zuko put down his suitcase. He crouched on the closet floor and pulled apart a wooden slat. In his stash, he found his mother’s favourite theatre mask, blue and white with a grinning face. The mask safely in his luggage, he put back the wooden slat and left his rooms. For good.

Ty Lee waved them off; she was going to take the next ship with her family and would join them later. By the time he was squashed between Azula and Mai at the back of their white Renault, they were almost late for the ship. Zuko almost smiled when he thought that missing it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Almost. He didn’t smile anymore, these days.

The pier was packed. Hundreds gathered there, waving at their loved ones, smiling tearfully upwards at the tallest ship in the world. _Titanic_ towered over them, a giant amongst men, a Spirit amongst mortals. Mai muttered something about peasants watching them park the car with curiosity, but Zuko only had eyes for the beautiful burgundy Renault that was being mounted upon the ship by a crane. Then, his gaze trailed over the crowd of people, from all backgrounds, from all classes. They all looked so… happy. Wonderfully happy. 

Envy clawed at his stomach.

Soon, their Renault stopped on the pier and a hand reached out to help Mai out. She walked out, the picture of the perfect rich girl, elegant and poised. Zuko pulled on his coat when he finally stepped out. He tried to feel detached about the whole affair. It had never worked. Zuko always wore his heart on his sleeves. 

“I don't see what all the fuss is about,” he half-muttered. He thought it might be hard to hear him in all that noise. “It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania.”

“You can be blasé about some things, Zuzu, but not about _Titanic_!” said Azula. “It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian café... even Turkish baths.”

“Wonderful.”

“Your son is much too hard to impress, Ozai,” came Mai’s monotone drawl. 

Zuko stiffened at the sound of his father’s footsteps hitting the pavement. He tried to let it pass for a chill in the air, but Zuko had always been a terrible actor. That was what Azula always said, anyway. His hand went to the scar on his face. What would people think if they knew what had happened behind closed doors in the fabled Kai household? He could feel pairs of eyes poking holes in his back. Zuko took a deep breath and put on an aloof look.

“So this is the ship they say is unsinkable,” said Father, unimpressed as always.

“It is unsinkable,” countered Azula. “The Spirits themselves couldn't sink this ship.”

“Sir,” said a porter cutting in through the crowd at Father. “You'll have to check your baggage through the main terminal, round that way...”

Father handed him a fiver.

“I put my faith in you, good sir. Iroh?”

Zuko saw that Uncle, behind the car, wanted to protest, but he nodded. “I’ll see to it.”

“We’d better hurry,” said Azula. “This way, _ladies_.”

Father was the first one to start on his way to the ship. Zuko followed mutely after Azula and Mai. Uncle was there, behind him. Father zigzagged through the crowd and raised his nose at those from stations below his. Zuko looked around, unable to hide his curiosity. People were being examined for lice and... other diseases. A little girl waved at him in the crowd. He surprised himself by waving at her. The girl’s aunt or mother, Zuko presumed, grabbed her by the hand. Zuko thought he heard her scold the girl from interacting with _those folks who don’t care about us_ before he started marching on the ship.

To everyone else, it was the Ship of Dreams. To Zuko, it was a prison. A prison that would lead him from one prison in England to another in America. Much like the prison that had brought him from Japan to England. This was his life.

A life filled with prisons, one after the other.

* * *

The bar was filled with the smells of cigarette smoke, cheap beer and old sweat. Katara leaned over the table, eying the men around her with distrust. She even tried to push the feeling against her own brother Sokka; if she didn’t, he’d see right through her bluff. Cards were passed. The game wasn’t just on, it was almost over.

“You fish head,” said one man. “I can't believe you bet our tickets.”

“You lost our money. I'm just trying to get it back. Now shut up and take a card.”

Katara’s eyebrow twitched. “Hit me again, Boulder.”

“It’s _THE_ Boulder.”

“Yeah, right, whatever.”

More cards were passed. Katara glanced down at the play in her hands. Distrust, distrust, distrust… bluff, bluff, bluff… 

“The moment of truth, boys,” she said. “Somebody’s life’s about to change.”

Eyes shifted around, trying to read their poker faces.

“Let's see…” Sokka dropped his cards and Katara cleared her throat. “Sokka’s got niente. The Gecko?” More cards were dropped, with disgust this time. “... you've got squat.” Her eyes landed on... “The Boulder. Uh, oh... two pair...”

Katara hummed. She sighed deeply, then turned to her brother.

“Sorry, Sokka.”

When Sokka stared at her, a vein on his forehead threatened to pop.

“What do you mean, you’re sorry?” he sputtered. “Katara, what are you saying? What have you got? You… You lost all our money! What…”

“Sorry, you're not gonna see your European friends again for a long time…” She slapped her cards on the table. “‘Cause you're goin’ to America!! Full house boys!”

Sokka jumped up. He screeched with delight and tackled Katara in a bear hug. Katara pushed him away with her elbow and reached down for the money and the tickets. The Boulder grabbed her by the collar and lifted a fist. Katara shut her eyes. When the hit never came, she opened them again and doubled over laughing. The Boulder had punched the Gecko right on the nose. Katara kissed her tickets and screamed with delight.

“We’re going to America!” 

“We’re going home!”

“No, mates.” Katara and Sokka both turned towards the pub keeper, who was pointing at a clock on the wall. “ _Titanic_ goes to America. In five minutes.”

Katara had never run so fast in her entire life. She grabbed the money, shouldered her bag, and was out the door in the span of thirty seconds. She took the lead, Sokka a step behind. Katara laughed at her sheer luck. She would be the luckiest bitch in that entire ship if she made it in time. She avoided a crowd of well-wishers and dived left, barely avoiding a horse-drawn carriage. When her feet touched wood, she knew she’d made it. That is, until they started to detach the gangplank from the ship.

“Wait!” she called to the officer closing the door. “We’re passengers!”

She waved her tickets in his face, heart pounding.

Please, don’t turn us around. _Please, please, please, please…_

“Have you been through the inspection queue?”

“We don’t have lice,” she said cheerfully. “We’re Americans.”

“Siblings,” added Sokka, leaning over her shoulder.

The man nodded. 

“Right, come aboard.”

Katara walked past the officer and waited until they were out of earshot before she whooped and jump over her brother’s shoulder. Sokka’s face broke into a grin. He spun her around, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world!”

“Huh, huh!” Sokka dropped her back down and Katara wagged a finger at him. “ _I’m_ the luckiest son of a bitch in the world!”

Sokka and Katara emerged from the belly of the beast into sunlight. They leaned over the railings. Sokka started to wave at the crowd, calling his goodbyes to people he didn’t even know. With a laugh, Katara joined in.

“Goodbye, goodbye! I’ll miss you!”

Below them, motors roared to life. White seafoam appeared at the back of the ship as they started to leave Southampton. _Titanic_ set her course to America, so big it was surprising how fast she could go. When the ship went right past a tiny sailing boat, a behemoth facing a fly, Katara cackled with glee. This was the best feeling in the world.

That’s the feeling Katara had been chasing all her life.

“Hey,” she said, putting a hand on Sokka’s arm. “Let’s go find our room.”

They raced each other to their room, passing by many, many, _many_ people. The Third Class Deck was almost full to the brim, a chaos of bodies as people talked every language. She trotted past a few people pointing at an English-whatever-language-they-spoke dictionary and avoided a mother and her two children. 

Katara reached the room first, but she was still too late. Sokka managed to slip past her and jump on the bunk bed above.

“Come on, I wanted to be up there!”

“Too slow, baby sis.”

With that, Sokka removed his sweaty jacket and started rubbing it against the bed covers. Katara’s stomach churned.

“You know what? Keep it to yourself.”

“That’s what I thought you were gonna say!”

In the corner, two wrestlers looked at each other with identical confused looks.

“Where’s The Boulder?” asked one. 

* * *

Zuko finished unpacking. He looked around the suite, with its rich burgundy-brown walls, decorated with gilded sconces and floral flourishings. Two bouquets of flowers rested in vases on the mantel, in-between of which a clock tick-tick-ticked away. Zuko and Uncle finished unpacking his collection of portraits. He eyed them all with a rare grin, enjoying that feeling of pride in his chest. Paintings had been one of Mother’s passions and he had decided to continue that tradition. Besides, he loved looking at them.

With one last look around, Zuko admitted, his suite did look pretty good. 

Unfortunately, though, he had to share it with everyone else.

“Spirits, not those finger paintings again. They certainly were a waste of money.”

“The difference between Mai’s taste and mine is that I have some.”

Uncle snorted and excused himself, saying he needed some fresh air, and Zuko fought the urge to grab his hand and pull him back. Zuko wanted to scream at Mai’s monotone voice. Did she love nothing in this world? Was she apathetic to everything? He bit back a bitter remark. Zuko picked up a portrait and looked it over with a smile. He said instead:

“They're fascinating. A dream inside a dream or something... there's truth without logic. What's his name again...?” He read the name on the canvas. “Something Picasso?”

“Something Picasso.” Mai snorted. Walking further inside the sitting room as Zuko basically fled. “He'll never amount to a thing. He won’t, trust me. At least they were cheap.”

“Which one is it?” asked Zuko under his breath. He finally hung his dao swords on the wall and, hands on his hips, stared at his suite, finally unpacked to his liking. “Were they a waste of money or were they cheap?”

That evening, the ship made a stop in Cherbourg, France. Zuko was wandering the ship with his Uncle when he almost ran into a feisty-looking lady, who was followed by a desperate-looking porter holding up her luggage. When Uncle Iroh kissed her knuckles and made her chortle, he didn’t know he had almost knocked over Margaret Brown, who would be known to History as the Unsinkable Molly Brown, whose husband had struck gold someplace out west, and she was what Father called "new money".

“No need to apologize, old man. Your grandpa is a sly old fox, sonny!”

“My Uncle, actually.”

She winked at him. “No worries. I’m married, sir, but have a lovely end of day.”

And with that, she was gone.

Then, finally, came the night, with its peace and quiet. Zuko released his hair from its top knot. It fell over his eyes and around his ears, shaggy-looking once more. There. Now he looked like himself. Not who Father and Azula and Mai wanted him to be.

Peace. That’s what he found that night.

That is until Zuko tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Uncle Iroh snored like a dragon in the other room, making it impossible to get a break. Finally relinquishing the idea that he was going to get some sleep for a while, Zuko pushed his covers aside. He dressed as appropriately as he could muster in the dead of night and set out to take a stroll on deck.

It was cool and refreshing out here, almost free of… anyone, really. Zuko rested his arms against the railing, looking out into the dark. Dark blue met jet black upon the horizon. A vertiginous fall down, waters rumbled, making waves around the ship. Zuko breathed in and out. Finally peace, after the stuffiness of the day. For once, he didn’t need to nod and agree and say snide remarks instead of his own opinion. Sure, talking with Uncle was always helpful, but he found himself tongue-tied when it came to him. And besides, he liked to reply in riddles Zuko couldn’t understand half of the time. That didn’t help.

He longed for someone who would listen and whom he could listen to. To talk about his hopes and dreams. About who he was. Deep inside.

 _Who are you, Zuko?_ Uncle Iroh’s question came back to haunt him.

The family disappointment. 

“Have you heard?”

“I know! It’s shocking!”

Zuko didn’t turn when two porters came walking around the corner. He feigned being too engrossed in the view of the twinkling stars on the water. They didn’t stop to talk, even when they walked past him. 

“He made it all the way there?”

That’s when Zuko overheard about some commotion in the kitchens. Apparently, earlier tonight, the leader of a group called the Freedom Fighters, who was apparently the sole representative of his group on board, had tried to snuck in and steal food from the First Class pantry. He wanted to help kids and old people who hadn’t had enough in Third Class. Bullies had decided to take a few portions too many. The porters laughed at the apparent hilarity of the situation, though Zuko couldn’t bring himself to find it funny. Who could laugh at the misery of others? This man… those people needed help, not mockery.

Zuko’s mind fluttered back to the theatre mask in his luggage.

What… if…?

_Who are you, Zuko?_

Then a voice he hadn’t heard in a long, long time joined Uncle’s in his ear. Mother’s voice, whispering in the dark of night.

_Never forget who you are._

Zuko walked as quietly as possible back to his suite. He was silent as a mouse as he changed into his blackest clothes. He found the fierce theatre mask easily. Zuko looked at it for a long moment, then he figured he shouldn’t overthink it now that he’d taken that decision. Zuko slipped the mask on, hiding his recognizable scar. Then, for good measure, he took the dao swords from the wall and put them over his back.

The Blue Spirit was ready.

No locked door could hold him for long. No one saw him. He kept close to the walls, jumping to roofs and parapets if there was ever a _sign_ of someone coming. Be they members of the captain’s crew, butlers, kitchen staff or lost passengers on their way back from a late night stroll. Zuko dove into a hallway and studied a map of the ship on the wall. He somehow managed to find his way, still out of sight of everyone passing by, to the cargo hold. He looked through everything, pillaging cheese and mushrooms and whatever else he could find.

No one saw him take the food and walk back out. 

He dropped the package in the Third Class kitchen, hoping no one but the staff would stumble upon it come the morning. When he slipped back out, he was about to leave the Third Class sections of the ship when he was finally found. 

A soft gasp echoed when he unsheathed his dao swords.

“Don’t,” said a voice. A young woman’s voice.

They stared each other down. The woman’s eyes - bluer than the ocean blue - went from him to the kitchen and back to him again. She sized him up, from head to toe. Under his mask, Zuko blushed. Then, she did something he hadn’t expected her to do. At all. 

She _bowed_. 

“Thank you.”

Zuko sheathed his dao swords with a _shling!_

By the time the young woman had lifted her head again, he was gone. She didn’t think about looking up when she looked around, trying to find him. Then, he heard her whisper something under her breath. Something that sounded a lot like:

“Sokka’s never gonna believe me.”

With that, the woman ran away, back to her room he presumed. It was faster than expected when Zuko returned to his suite. He put his mask and black clothes safely away, then he dove under his cover, in his nightclothes. He looked up at the ceiling, breathing long and hard. His heart drummed in his chest. A smile stretched on Zuko’s face. He felt a laugh bubble in his chest and bit down on his fist to avoid waking anyone up.

He’d never felt more alive.

Then, everything came crashing down. The highest of highs to the lowest of lows.

He’d been seen. He’d been _seen_ . The only fun he’d had in months had almost caused him to be put in jail. What would Mai say? What would Father _do?_ At that, Zuko almost burst into tears. He couldn’t do this again. The Blue Spirit’s outings were done. 

He was Zuko once more, chained in his prison of gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Tuesday: Zuko and Katara catch glimpses of each other, worlds apart. Then, something like fate, destiny, or the Painted Lady, allows them to meet.


	3. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

_And it’s peaceful in the deep_

_Cathedral where you cannot breathe_

* * *

The next day in the afternoon, Katara lead the way with her brother up to the deck. They reached the bow of the ship, standing at the very edge. She hopped on the railing while Sokka stood to the side. Katara felt the salty air hit her square in the face, wind whipping at her hair loopies. Katara closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of flying.

“Hey, look!”

Katara looked overboard. Dolphins were racing the enormous ship, gray and slick against the elegant, pitch black hull. They were there, just barely under the surface, zigzagging between each other. Katara’s heart melted.

“Look!” She pointed at one. “You see that one? He’s gonna jump!”

And just as she expected, the dolphin jumped out through the seafoam.

“Woohoohoo!” 

Katara lifted herself up, grabbing a rope and pulling herself slightly above Sokka, who was taller than she was. She looked out upon the beautiful day, at the baby blue sky and fluffy clouds over the open ocean. Sokka pointed at the horizon. 

“I can see the Statue of Liberty already! It’s very small, of course.”

Katara chuckled. “Of course!”

She didn’t know what got into her. Maybe it was the thrill of the open ocean, the feeling of salt and wind in her hair, the joy of seeing dolphins for the first time in years, or maybe just the idea that finally, _finally,_ she was coming home. In any case, Katara didn’t know what Spirit possessed her at that moment. But she stepped onto the railing, spread out her arms, and screamed, loud and clear, into the skies:

“I’M THE QUEEN OF THE WOOOOOORLD! WOOHOOHOO!”

* * *

Iroh had never liked Mai.

At best, he found her ill-suited for his nephew. At worst, she was a spoiled, uncaring, selfish girl who went along a little too easily with Azula’s schemes. Ty Lee, for her part, at least seemed to show _some_ hesitation when dealing with Azula. Motivated by fear. Mai, though? Mai followed along because she was bored all the time. Because she couldn’t find anything fun in her daily life and loved to torment staff and even Zuko, at times.

Still, Iroh wasn’t going to say all of that at lunch. Not when the ship’s architect, the highest-ranking White Star Line official, and the Beifongs had joined them at the table.

So he bit his tongue.

“...and our master shipbuilder,” was saying Mr. Ismay, though Iroh could barely be bothered to listen, “Mr. Andrews here, designed her from the keel plates up.”

Ah, yes. _Titanic_. The Ship of Dreams. Iroh took a sip of his tea. 

“Well,” started the aforementioned Mr. Andrews, “I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is…” He slapped the table, three soft times, and finished: “...willed into solid reality.”

Iroh almost choked on his tea when Zuko surreptitiously took out a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it up, sending a sidelong glance at his father. Oh, we were going there, huh?

Iroh shared a glance with Molly Brown. They smirked.

“You know I don’t like it when you smoke, Zuko,” said Ozai.

“He knows,” countered Toph, the Beifongs’ daughter, snickering.

“Toph!” snapped her mother. “Be polite.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Meanwhile, Mai had taken Zuko’s cigarette and put it out without a word. When a waiter walked over to Zuko, asking for his meal, it was Mai who answered in that bored drawl of hers, as if she didn’t know what she was doing. But Iroh knew she knew.

“We'll both have the lamb. Rare, with a little mint sauce.”

The waiter now gone, she asked Zuko:

“You like lamb, don’t you, sweetpea?”

Zuko flashed her a half-hearted grin. Toph hid a snort behind her hand. Iroh took a sip of his tea. He was about to speak when he was cut short by Molly Brown.

“So, you gonna cut his meat for him too, Mai?”

At that, Toph snickered outright. Her mother sighed, dropping the façade. When Mai’s shoulders crept up to her ears, Iroh drank some more tea. A light twinkled in his eyes. Was she going to have a public display of emotion? For once?

“Hey,” Molly said, changing subjects. “Who came up with the name _Titanic_?” With a soft smile, she added: “Was it you, Bruce?”

“Yes, actually.” Of course, Ismay had. Iroh wanted to roll his eyes at that. “I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury and safety.”

“Do you know of Dr. Freud?” Zuko asked, speaking up for the first time. A glint of mischief was shining in his eyes. “His ideas about us men’s preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay.”

Toph burst out laughing. Iroh joined her, while Andrews choked on his bread.

“Spirits’ sake, Zuko, what’s gotten into you?”

When Ozai slapped his hand against the table, Zuko flinched. Iroh noticed, Molly Brown noticed and Toph noticed, too. When the lunch had started, Iroh had seen her as discreetly as possible put one of her bare foot down on the ground, touching the floor. Her eyes may not be looking at anything in particular, but Iroh knew she’d felt Zuko.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

Zuko fled the room. Iroh was about to follow when Ozai said:

“I do apologize.”

If he wanted to _look_ mortified, he failed. Miserably.

“He’s a pistol, Mai. You sure you can handle him?”

Mai looked over her shoulder at where Zuko had gone, then said:

“Well, I may have to start minding what he reads from now on.”

Iroh wanted to retort at that, but once again, he was interrupted. 

“I heard your daughter is an earthbender, Mrs. Beifong. How are her lessons going?”

“Oh, she only learns the basics. You see, as Toph is blind, earthbending is too dangerous for her own good. She…”

Iroh stopped listening. He rose to his feet… then noticed Mai was gone.

He started after both Zuko and Mai.

* * *

Later on after her and Sokka’s trip at the bow, Katara sat on the top Third Class Deck. She looked up from her drawing, sitting on her lap, and closed her eyes. The water rolled just off the edge. It sang to her, calling for her to waterbend. There was nothing like the feeling of the open ocean to soothe her soul. She obliged, rising up to practice the familiar bending moves. Water whipped around her, obeying her.

Not for the first time, Katara wished Hama hadn’t died so soon.

Hama had been a friend of the family as far as Katara remembered. She was a Master and had started to teach Katara the art of waterbending. But then she’d died of old age, leaving Katara’s training incomplete. She could heal, create mist, turn water into ice, and Katara herself had even perfected her own moves through the years. But without a real Master, she wouldn’t be able to tap into every source of water available to her, even the most secretive. That was part of the reason Katara and Sokka had been travelling for so long, but by now, her hope of finding a Master was chipped away a little every day.

Katara dropped the water in the ocean and touched her mother’s necklace. 

No. She wasn’t going to lose hope. Not now. Not ever. It was all she had.

Katara sat back down. Meng, the little girl who was reading on her aunt’s lap and whom Katara had been drawing for the past few minutes, looked up when Sokka asked her what she was reading. Her voice was loud and clear and excited when she answered:

“It’s a book about Spirits!”

“Oh, really?” Sokka scratched his cheek. “Which one’s your favourite?”

“The Painted Lady!”

Something rang true in Katara’s mind. The memory of last night - the Spirit in the blue mask - came back to her. He’d sneaked around the decks, bringing food to them when those bullies, who had been taken care of, be certain of that, had stolen food for themselves. He’d been a force for good. And wasn’t the Painted Lady…?

“Isn’t she a healer?” asked Katara.

“No!” The little girl looked guilty for a moment, then she said: “Well, yes. She is. But she’s also a super powerful river Spirit! I love her so much.”

“Huh, huh…”

A _water_ Spirit, huh?

“Can I look at what you’re drawing?”

Katara showed her her sketchbook. Meng gasped.

“It’s me! Look, Aunt Wu! It’s me!”

Meng’s frail body was shaken with coughs. When her aunt looked around, frightened, Katara’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t let it show otherwise. She was sick. And from the look on Aunt Wu’s face, Katara knew there wasn’t much to be done with their meagre supplies. Katara looked away. There wasn’t anything she could do.

From the corner of her eye, Katara saw a crewmember turn the corner, pulled along by a trio of three small dogs. Somewhere, Katara heard a snort.

“That’s typical. First Class dogs come down here to take a shit.”

“That's so we know where we rank in the scheme of things,” countered Sokka.

“Like we could forget.”

A tall, mischievous-looking man was standing off to the side, arms crossed over his chest. He leaned against the railing as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A strand of grass was firmly stuck between his teeth. He winked at Katara and she almost groaned. She knew that kind of guy. Always trouble. Sokka and him shook hands.

“Sokka La.”

“Jet.”

“Just Jet?”

“Yeah. Just Jet. And the sweetheart?”

Instead of giving him a name, Katara answered: “I’m gonna be your worst nightmare if you call me ‘sweetheart’ again.”

A few chuckles travelled down the deck. Jet swallowed down a reaction.

“Point taken.”

“She’s my sister,” explained Sokka, waving a hand. “Katara.” His voice grew serious when he said: “And if _you_ hurt her, _I’m_ going to be your worst nightmare.”

“Again. Point taken.”

“About the dogs, I don’t know, man,” said a bald man, still a boy really, as a large dog and a lemur piled around him. He sat on another bench, one hand buried in the dog’s fur. “Animals are neat. Look at Appa and Momo! Don’t they look like they’re having fun?”

“Yeah, well, those are _your_ pets, Aang.”

The boy offered them his hand. “Aang Gyatso, nice to meet you.”

“Sokka. And my sister, Katara.”

“Appa’s the lemur and Momo’s the dog?” asked Katara.

Aang flashed her a grin.

“Nope, the other way around!”

That was the moment Meng decided to jump up and put herself in Katara’s face.Her big eyes were pleading. Puppy-dog eyes. She asked, so quick her mouth was a blur: “Can I have it? Can I have it? Can I have it? Can I have it? _Can I have it?_ ”

“Whoa, Meng!” Katara raised two hands. “Slow down! Can you have what?”

“The drawing you made of me.”

“Oh! Well…”

“I told you, Meng,” cut in Aunt Wu. “You’re putting her in a tough spot. She makes people pay for her drawings. And we can’t afford it right now.”

Meng deflated like a balloon. “Oh…”

“Wait.” Katara turned to Aunt Wu. “If you can’t pay, that’s fine. I can…”

“No, no, no, you need payment for your services.” Aunt Wu seemed to think, then. She rubbed her chin. Her eyes sparkled with something like mischief and she snapped her fingers. “But I think I know _how_ I can repay you. How about a service for a service?”

“Um… sure. Like what?”

“I’m a fortune teller. I could read your fortune!”

“Oh! Yes! I’d like that.”

Katara gave Meng her drawing, who looked at it like it was Claude Monet’s latest painting. Katara smiled. She’d made a second version of that drawing, which she kept in her portfolio. But the first version belonged to Meng. Then, Katara and Aunt Wu sat down on the deck opposite each other. Some people stared, but others completely ignored them. Aunt Wu took Katara’s hands in hers… and looked surprised.

“Your palms are so smooth. Do you use moisturizer?”

“Actually, I have this special seaweed lotion. After the ship docks, I can send you some if you want.” Katara had said that with as much carelessness as she could, but now nervousness bubbled in her chest. “So, do you see anything interesting in my love line?”

Aunt Wu closed her eyes, feeling Katara’s palms. Then, she smiled.

“Oh, yes! I feel a great romance for you. The man you are going to marry. I can see that he's a very powerful bender!”

Somewhere far away, Katara heard Sokka scoff.

“That’s just a lot of bull…”

“Sokka!” snapped Aang. “Shhh!” 

“I’m just voicing my opinion.”

“Well, no one _asked_ for your opinion, all right?”

“Okay, okay…”

Katara turned her attention back to Aunt Wu. She smiled, showing all teeth.

“About this man I'm supposed to marry…” She looked down at their hands, then back up at Aunt Wu’s face. “Is he going to be handsome? Oh, I hope he's tall!”

Aunt Wu laughed. “Ah... You want me to read that next?” 

Katara nodded. Frantically.

“Yes, please!”

But Meng interrupted at that moment. With a cough. A cough that almost rocked her off her bench. Aunt Wu jumped up and wrapped an arm around her niece’s shoulders.

“Maybe another time. We’ll be going back inside. All right, Meng?”

“Yes, Aunt Wu.”

“But… I can help, I…!”

Before Katara could finish voicing that thought, they were gone.

Katara sat back down on the bench, next to Sokka. She was about to say something when all words flew away from her mouth.

Her gaze landed on a man. He stood at the aft railing of the First Class promenade, forearms resting against shiny wood. He was tall, thin but muscular under his pristine suit, with his dark hair tied at the crown of his head in a top knot. What Katara couldn’t look away from, though, were his eyes.

Not the scar over his left eye. His eyes proper.

He looked… lost. Lost in the horizon, lost in his life. His golden eyes - a shade she’d never seen before - were the eyes of a man floating at sea, yes, but who also didn’t know how to get out of the water.

“Ah, forget it, lady,” said Jet, pulling on his strand of grass. “Spirits are gonna be flying out of your ass before you get with the likes of him.”

Still, Katara couldn’t tear her eyes away. His jaw was clenched, his body tense. He looked like he was just there to enjoy the scenery, but there was something else going on, she knew. He was seeking refuge. A moment of peace amidst chaos. She’d be the first to know about that. Her life had been chaotic for a long, long time.

Then, the man’s eyes turned to her.

They shared a glance. 

Oh.

Oh no.

He was trouble. He was so, so, so much trouble. But not in the way Jet was trouble. He was the good kind of trouble. His jaw unclenched, his body relaxed. Almost as if to stop himself from looking - or was that wishful thinking? - he turned away. 

But then, he looked back. They shared a second glance.

“Wow,” said Sokka from far away. “I’ve never seen her like this.”

A hand waved in front of her face. Katara barely saw it.

 _What’s your name?_ she wanted to ask. But he wouldn’t have heard. Her voice would have been stolen by the breeze. They were maybe sixty feet apart, but so, so far away. He up high on his mountain and she, on land. Worlds apart.

A young woman came up to the man. She grabbed his arm. 

She _grabbed_ his arm. Tight. Pulling him back. He pushed her hand away.

“Do you mind?” she thought she heard his voice, raspy… but not unpleasant.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” snapped the woman.

The man sent Katara one last look. She held her breath. Then, he walked back inside, almost trotting away. Almost running. An old man whom Katara could now just see shook his head and returned inside, following after the man. The man who was almost running.

He looked like a man who wanted to run but had nowhere to run to.

* * *

Zuko’s day turned gloomy after that lunch.

He couldn’t find peace anywhere. Everywhere he went, there was always someone who knew someone, someone who had wished they’d been invited to the wedding, someone who was and couldn’t wait. Always someone to remind him what his future held, with whom his future was meant to be shared.

His mind went back to the woman on the Third Class deck.

It was her. The one who had found him as the Blue Spirit and who hadn’t ratted him out. Who had bowed to him with respect. She’d looked at him, then, the real him, with his face out in full view. And she hadn’t looked away. 

They’d shared a glance, maybe two, perhaps three. 

But as dinner rolled by, the memory of the woman on the deck wasn’t much comfort. Not even his Uncle’s jokes could bring him out of his miasma. Not for the first time in these past few months, he pictured his own life like a well-rehearsed play, like the kind his mother brought him to on Ember Island. Parades and parties and dances, meaningless in substance. A life for the rich and aristocratic who knew nothing of him but thought they knew. He saw cotillions, yachts and polo matches, always with the same chatter, the same gossip. And not for the first time these past few months, Zuko felt trapped. 

He couldn’t breathe. His entire life only served to stifle him.

To break him.

Zuko rose up halfway through dinner. He left with a muttered apology. 

Zuko found his way to his room. He walked as if in a cloud, not exactly looking, not exactly feeling anything. He stopped by the door and turned around upon the deck. He looked out over the water, like he’d had the night before. But the Blue Spirit was no comfort to him anymore, like the woman’s face in that crowd. It was only a reminder of what he couldn’t have. Who he couldn’t be. Free.

Zuko gripped the railing tight until his hands hurt. 

“There she is! Stop her!”

Mist rolled in through the night air. It came as if from nowhere and everywhere, bringing a new chill to the evening. Footsteps echoed from far away, somewhere up ahead. Zuko looked up. That’s when he saw her.

She emerged through the mist, a Spirit in her own right. A veil had been wrapped around her straw hat, otherworldly and ethereal. It covered her face, of which he could only see the bottom half. A smile tugged at her lips. The woman stopped when Zuko stood in her path. Her long, dark burgundy dress fluttered in the wind, gliding along with her. A necklace of shell rested upon her neck and a sack had been thrown over her shoulders. Hastily, as if in a hurry. Red stained her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders and under her mouth. 

The Painted Lady.

Where? How? Why? How could a Spirit from home be here? Out upon the ocean waters, upon the Atlantic and aboard the _Titanic_ , of all places?

His mind went back to the woman who had seen him. Last night.

He found himself in the same position, really. To rat out or not to rat out a Spirit?

Zuko did the only thing he could do. The only wise thing to do in front of a Spirit. He dropped to the floor in a kowtow. He thought he heard a gasp fly from her lips, but he couldn’t be quite sure. His mind still felt cloudy, clinging to a cliff. The last thing he needed was to be cursed by a Spirit, too. 

She glided past him, as if flying above the ground.

More footsteps alerted him to the men who had called for her to be stopped. Zuko looked up, rising from his kowtow. Two crewmembers were staring at him.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Where is she? Where did she go?”

Zuko looked around, mind still fuzzy. Then he looked out upon the endless waters, stretching far beyond the horizon. He pointed there. Over the railing.

“She… She flew over the water and disappeared.”

“Sir… maybe she’s a real Spirit!”

“Stop that. She’s not!”

Zuko barely heard himself tell another lie:

“I’m only telling you what I saw.”

“Right… let’s go.”

They left the way they came. Again, like last night, Zuko felt a rush of high… and the lowest low. He let out a shaky breath and leaned once more against the railing. He gripped his hair, fingers tangling in his top knot. He’d lied. Again. He tried not to think about the look of disappointment on Uncle’s face. If he knew...

He was a liar and a thief dressed in gentleman’s clothing. A boy who could barely think, barely breathe. His breaths came out in sobs in his throat. 

Trapped. He was _trapped._

Was his life even valuable? 

He lied and he lied and he lied. His childhood mantra came back to his mind. _Azula always lies_. Maybe he was turning into his sister, too.

No. He couldn’t become like Azula. He couldn’t. He _couldn’t_.

But that was what Father expected of him. 

_My father says she was born lucky; he says I was lucky to be born._

Zuko pushed past his suite door and dropped his keys. He called for Uncle automatically, but he was alone. His hands rested flat upon his dresser, breathing hoarse in his throat. When Zuko looked at himself in the mirror, he saw that he was crying. He was losing himself. No. He couldn’t. He’d promised Mother… he was turning into Azula.

A liar.

Rage flared in his stomach. Rage at Uncle Iroh who didn’t speak up enough, rage at Mai for treating him like a pet, rage at Azula for tormenting him, rage at Father for being worse than his sister. Rage at himself. Rage at himself for taking it,. Hit by hit.

Zuko clawed at his topknot, pulling his hair free. His headpiece fell to the floor. He grabbed a chair and smashed it against the wall, a ball of fire erupting from his fist. Pitiful orange fire. Not blue like Azula’s. His fire was weak. Zuko roared. He wanted to tear at the walls, to destroy this luxury and gold. But he couldn’t. If Father knew... 

Rage didn’t make him feel any better. Zuko leaned once more in front of the mirror. He looked in his own eyes. He didn’t see himself, then. He saw someone else. Staring back at him.

Zuko slammed his door shut. He half-remembered locking it before running.

* * *

Katara dropped the sack in the Third Class dispensary. Then, she made her way back to her room. Everyone was asleep. Sokka was snoring, louder than the roaring engines. Good. She stashed away her costume and wiped off her makeup, which she’d borrowed - okay, yes, she _had_ dropped a few coins in exchange - from a few people’s cabins. She dropped down on her bed, feeling her heart beating in her chest.

She’d never felt more alive. Katara rose with the moon, after all.

Katara didn’t know how she’d managed to do it. But she had. She _had._ She’d seen Meng, the little girl from the Third Class deck, again tonight. She’d seen her cough and when she’d offered her healing abilities, someone had scoffed about witchcraft. Katara had then decided to do something dangerous. Something that put her life at risk.

She’d stolen medicine under the Painted Lady’s disguise.

And she’d gotten away with it!

A laugh bubbled in her chest, but Katara swallowed it down. Now wasn’t the time to wake up her brother or the other residents of the room. Now wasn’t the time to be caught.

Katara’s mind wandered to the young man on deck. He was the same man she’d seen earlier today, standing on the First Class promenade. He’d bowed to her. He’d bowed to her like she had the Blue Spirit, but whereas she had stayed on her legs and bowed her torso, he… he’d dropped to the floor and kowtowed. To her! Katara, lowly Third Class passenger! A smile tugged at her lips. She’d known it was him, the man from the promenade. She’d recognize those golden eyes anywhere. He looked even more handsome up close.

Wait.

Handsome?

No. Katara couldn’t find him _handsome._

That wasn’t allowed.

Still, Katara felt warm at the memory of him. She soon found herself tossing and turning in her bed. Sleep evaded her as her mind raced. She was still high-strung from her trip to the First Class deck, too filled with adrenaline to find peace. The moon was bright outside.

Katara pushed her bedsheet aside and, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, went for a walk. 

She found her way to the empty, peaceful and somewhat secluded stern deck, on the opposite side of the ship from where she’d screamed at the top of her lungs earlier today. Had it really been today? It felt like so long ago already, hours crawling by on the grandest ship in the world. Katara plopped down on a hard bench, then lay down upon it on her back. It was stiff under her, but she enjoyed the feeling of it. Grounding her. Katara put a cigarette in her mouth. The smoke rose in wisps, vanishing under the thousand twinkling stars.

Katara’s mind went back to a straw hat and a dress full of mist. She smiled.

That’s when she heard… something. Or rather, _someone_. A desperate cry. Heart wrenching sobs. A shadow ran past her. Katara pushed herself up into a sitting position. She frowned in the dark. Wait.

Could it be…?

Yes. It was _him_. What were the chances of her running into this man again on the exact same night? When he grasped the base of the stern flagpole with desperate hands, panting, Katara got up to her feet. He needed her. He needed help.

She followed after him like a shadow.

He looked out over the black water, chest moving with each daring breath. He left the flagpole, walking up to the railing at the very edge of the ship. Beyond was nothing more than emptiness. An emptiness, then crashing water. She watched, unable to talk, as he climbed over the railing and turned around, looking down. His hair fluttered in the wind, his arms straightened, propelling his torso away from the ship.

That’s when Katara found her voice again.

“Don’t do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Wednesday: Our leads finally talk to each other.


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

_No need to pray, no need to speak_

_Now I am under_

* * *

Zuko didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that he hoped someone - anyone - would find him. But there was no one in sight. No one but himself, precariously leaning over the gurgling ocean. Down there, the propellers rumbled. If he went down, would anyone miss him? Uncle would be saddened. For a time. Then he’d forget about him, like Azula would forget, like Father would, like Mai would. Speaking of Mai, she’d find herself a better man than him, a man with money and power and who didn’t feel guilty about lying. Maybe a man who loved her, too. The man she deserved. Not him. 

Never him.

Zuko breathed in a shaky breath. Salt burned at his eyes. 

That’s when he was found. Just in time.

“Don’t do it.”

His head whipped around, eyes focussing on her. He wanted to laugh. Of course, it was her. Somehow, they’d found each other over and over again since they’d both embarked on this Spirits forsaken ship. But then the bitterness he wanted to laugh at turned to a twinge of hope. She’d found him. Maybe… Maybe she could…

“Stay back!” he snapped instead. “Don’t come any closer!”

Zuko looked back at the open ocean. His breath hitched, every part of his body shook. With shiver, with nerves, he wasn’t exactly sure. But he was about to do it.

“Take my hand. I'll pull you back in.”

“No!” He shook his head. “Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go.”

The woman pulled something from between her lips. A cigarette, she showed him pointedly. She sent it flying overboard, into the ocean. Then, she put her hands in the pockets of her dress, underneath her light grey shawl. Picture perfect nonchalance. 

“No, you won't.”

He stared at her. She’d crossed over to stand on his side, on his left side he realized. A tiny smile crept up on her face. Zuko huffed at that.

“What do you mean, ‘no I won't’?” His voice sounded strained, even to his own ears. High-pitched. It broke a little. Was he that much of a mess? What a way to go out. “Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me.”

Her eyes gleamed.

“You would have done it already.”

Zuko swallowed. Well, she had a point.

“Now come on, take my hand.”

“You're distracting me. Go away.”

He was stubborn. 

_As usual, Zuzu,_ mocked a voice that sounded like Azula’s in his head. 

No, he didn’t want to think about Azula. He thought of her voice. The woman right there. Her voice was soft. Fresh. Like the caress of moonlight on his skin.

“I can't.” She pulled off her shawl and wrapped it around the railing. Her eyebrows crept up to her hairline. “I'm involved now. You let go, I’m gonna have to jump in after ya.”

She looked serious. Was she serious? She couldn’t be serious.

“Don't be absurd. You'll be killed.”

“I’m a good swimmer. And being a waterbender doesn’t help.”

He looked at her, eying her. Awed.

“You’re a waterbender?”

“Not a Master. Not yet. But I’m not bad at it, if I do say so myself.”

Zuko took in another breath. Then another. Looking away, he tried to ignore her. This sarcastic, bold waterbender who’d decided to come and offer him a hand. Then, it hit him.

A _waterbender_.

“You’re the Painted Lady.”

“And you’re the Blue Spirit.”

He looked at her again. Zuko swallowed. 

“No one must know. If… If they ever found out…”

“Hey.” She raised her hands defensively. “You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What about you? You’re a bender?”

He liked the sound of curiosity on her tongue, he found out then. Zuko took his time to reply. It really wasn’t because he liked the way she looked when she stood there, staring at him impatiently. Nope, not at all. 

“Fire,” he finally whispered.

“Hm?”

“I…” Zuko cleared his throat. “I bend fire.”

“Oooh, a firebender. I’m not surprised, though. Looking at your face.”

“My face? I see.”

He wanted to put a hand to his scar, but if he let go, he’d fall. His hands curled around the railing tighter at the thought. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. Your eyes.”

“My… what?”

“Your eyes. They’re like twin suns or molten gold.”

“They are?”

“Yeah. I should have known you’re a firebender simply by looking at them. What’s the deal with the dao swords, though? I’ve only ever seen a few when travelling, and they’re mostly used for decoration, nowadays.”

“They thought I wasn’t a bender for a while. So they taught me swordfighting instead. My sister’s a prodigy and, well. I pale in comparison to her. Always have.”

_Azula always lies._

“Pfft! I’m sure you’re really good. You’re really good at stealth, anyway.”

Warmth flooded his cheeks. “... Thanks.”

“Again. You’re welcome.”

Zuko shook his head. His hair prickled at his eyes.

“That doesn’t matter. Trust me.” 

“It doesn’t?”

“No. Because I’ll jump. And if you jump after me, the fall alone would kill you.”

“It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't. To be honest I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold. Even though you’re a firebender, you’re human, and it’s… it’s cold down there. Trust me.”

 _Trust me._ That’s what he’d just said. Zuko looked down. His inner flame flickered.

“How cold?”

He sent her a sidelong glance. She leaned against the railway, within arm’s reach.

“Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over.”

Then, she started… to unlace her right shoe. What was she…?

“Ever been to Wisconsin?”

“What?” Zuko blinked. “No.”

“Well, they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. My Gran-Gran’s from Alaska, but she moved way south before I was born. As south as she could. Once when I was a kid me, my brother and my Dad went ice fishing out on Lake Wissota.” She paused, then continued: "Ice fishing's where you chop a hole in the…”

“I know what ice fishing is!” 

Again, she lifted up her hands. 

“Sorry.” She dropped her hands and wrung her fingers together. Looking awkward. “Just... you kind of look like an indoor guy. Anyway. I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water that cold... like that right down there... it hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think... least not about anything but the pain.” She took off her other shoe and shivered. Visibly. “Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't have a choice.”

They exchanged a glance. Zuko looked away.

“I guess, what I’m saying is,” she said, “I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That's what everybody says.” A moment of silence. Then her voice in his ear, so close. So close, in fact, she sent a shiver running through his body. “But with all due respect, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship.”

Another second, another look down at the water. 

“Come on,” she whispered again. “You don't want to do this. Give me your hand.”

“... All right.”

He took her hand. Zuko turned around, careful to put his foot safely on the gunwale. His gaze flew over her face, from her eyebrows to her mouth. He looked at her eyes again.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

He stared. She stared. Were they staring?

“I’m Katara. Katara La.”

“Zuko. Zuko Kai. Pleased to meet you, Miss La.”

“Pleased to meet you, too. Now, let’s get you back to the other side, Mr. Kai.”

He stepped up, half-lost in her eyes. He wasn’t paying attention.

Zuko slipped.

For a moment, there was nothing but the feeling of falling. Falling without being able to hold onto anything, falling with the knowledge he was going to _die_. He was going to die, right now, right at the moment he’d decided he actually wanted to live. 

“HELP! HELP!!”

But then Miss La was there. Her hands grabbed his, pulling him up. 

“I’ve got you!"

His eyes found hers. Determined. Steady. She wasn’t going to let him fall.

"I won’t let go.” 

Zuko nodded. He thought he heard footsteps pounding against wood, but he wasn’t sure. All he could really hear for certain were the rush of water underneath and the drumming of his own beating heart. 

Miss La pulled him up until he found his footing again. Zuko put his arms around her neck and pushed himself over the railing. They landed in a pile of limbs on the floor, Zuko’s back hitting the wood hard. She fell on top of him. Straddling his hips.

He blushed. She did too, he noticed.

“Here you, stand back!” 

Zuko suddenly remembered the footsteps. He hadn’t imagined them, after all. Two men stood over the both of them. That’s when Zuko fully realized how compromising this whole scene looked. Her there, straddling his hips. His body, shaking and sweaty.

Not that he didn’t like the thought of that...

“Get off him! Now don't move an inch!”

Zuko swallowed. He closed his eyes.

“Fetch the Master at Arms.”

* * *

Mr. Kai stood to the side, lost in his mind from what Katara could see, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A man offered him a cup of tea with a “there you go, nephew.” Katara watched as the Master at Arms handcuffed her wrists. She winced.

Sokka was gonna be so mad.

Maybe not as mad as the woman who came to fetch Mr. Kai. She was the same woman Katara had seen earlier that day, the woman on the promenade. She _was_ angry, but… it barely showed on her face. On the outside, she was poised. Elegant. But Katara could see it in her eyes. The fury. Not for Mr. Kai’s sake. No. For her own sake. What would she do when people talked, as they always did? What would they think of her, when Mr. Kai had been caught doing whatever… whatever this was with a commoner?

Not that Katara and Mr. Kai _had_ been doing anything. 

Not that she didn’t like the thought of that...

“What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancé?” asked the woman, voice harsh. She looked like she was going to grab Katara by the collar of her dress, but at the last second, she seemed to think otherwise. To preserve her reputation, possibly. “Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything, if that’s what you’re wondering!”

“What, you think I don’t know how girls like _you_ are?”

Self-righteous anger bubbled in Katara. “How are girls like _me_ , exactly?”

“Ah!” The woman faced Katara, eyes flashing. “I’ve heard it a thousand times. Poor little girl selling herself to the first bidder because she needs a few bucks.”

“Mai…”

Katara stared at her. Slack-jawed.

The woman scoffed. “You can’t even admit it to yourself! You little whore.”

“Mai, stop!” Mr. Kai - Zuko - put himself between Katara and the woman - Mai. As if suddenly remembering himself. “It was an accident.”

She sent him a cool look. 

“An accident?”

“It was... my fault, really. I was leaning over and I slipped.”

Zuko shared a glance with Katara. 

“I was leaning way over, to see the... ah... propellers. And I slipped and I would have gone overboard... and Miss La here saved me and she almost went over herself.”

Mai’s answer was cold as ice. “You wanted to see the propellers?”

Someone snorted. The woman who looked a lot like Mr. Kai. His sister, Katara presumed. She looked dangerous enough to _look_ like a firebending prodigy.

“Was that the way of it?” the Master at Arms asked Katara.

Katara’s eyes landed once again on Zuko’s. He pleaded silently. She nodded.

“Yep. That was pretty much it.” 

Zuko smiled. This was another secret they shared. Not bad for a first impression.

 _Stop_ , Katara told herself. He has a fiancée. 

Right, right...

“Well!” laughed Zuko’s uncle. “This young woman is a heroine! Good for you, well done.” To Mai, he added: “So all is well and I can bring him to our room for our tea, hm?”

“Actually, I think I’ll go to bed, Uncle,” said Zuko, looking away.

“Of course! You must be exhausted. After that fright.” The old man looked mildly irritated when he mumbled: “I guess I’ll have to go back to the brandy, then.”

Mai didn’t look convinced. Katara looked her dead in the eyes.

Still, the Master at Arms uncuffed Katara. She massaged her wrists with the opposite hands. Soon enough, people started to leave, people whom Katara had maybe heard of in newspapers but didn’t know at all. Mai made a big show of wrapping an arm around Zuko’s.

“Let’s get you in. You’re freezing.”

They were leaving. Zuko’s uncle turned to Katara and cleared his throat.

“Ah... perhaps a little something for this young woman?”

“Oh, right. Azula? A twenty should do it.”

Zuko snorted. “Is that the going rate for saving the man you love?”

Was that sarcasm Katara heard at the word “love”?

“Hm. You’re displeased. What to do…?” Mai spun around, sending Katara another glare. Then, her face broke into a ferocious smile. “Oh! I know. Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to regale our group with your heroic tale?”

Katara looked at no one else but Zuko.

“Sure. Count me in.”

“Good,” said Mai. “It’s settled, then.”

Soon enough, they were all gone, leaving Katara behind. Not exactly alone, though. Zuko’s sister had stayed behind when Katara had whistled at her.

“Can you bum me a cigarette?”

Azula arched an impeccable eyebrow and obliged.

“You’ll want to put those on.” She pointed at Katara’s shoes discarded on the floor and then at the shawl still curled around the ship’s railing. Pointed silence followed. Katara met Azula’s piercing gaze. She didn’t look away this time either. “Interesting that my dear older brother slipped so mighty all of a sudden and you still had time to take off your shawl and shoes. Mmmm?”

Azula looked Katara up from head to toe and back again. And with that, she left.

* * *

Zuko put down his mirror. His hair was still wet from washing and when he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, he looked a lot more like himself then he had earlier. To think that less than an hour ago, he’d almost jumped off the ship. If it hadn’t been for Miss La… Katara… he wouldn’t even be here. Mother’s old music box played its soft tune, the one she’d play to make Azula fall asleep when she was barely old enough to walk. Zuko was just about ready to go to bed when his door opened. He saw Mai enter through the mirror, looking maybe not as bored as ever. Zuko froze. 

“I know you’ve been melancholic,” she said, surprisingly tender, “and I don’t pretend to know why.” Mai crossed the room and pulled out a black velvet jewelry box from behind her back. When Mai sat up on Zuko’s desk, she shut his music box without bothering to ask whether it was okay or not. She sent him a rare smile, up above him from the angle she sat at. “I intended to save this until the engagement gala next week. But I thought tonight, perhaps you’d need a reminder of my feelings for you…?”

Mai opened the jewelry box. Zuko gasped.

“Spirits’ sake, Mai! That’s…”

“A diamond?” Her smile turned predatory. “Yes. Fifty-six carats.”

She wrapped it around his neck. It felt dreadfully heavy.

“It was once worn by Louis the Sixteenth. They call it _Le Coeur de la Mer_ , the…”

“The Heart of the Ocean.”

They shared a glance in the mirror. Zuko looked away.

“It’s overwhelming.”

“It's for royalty. And we are royalty, Zuko.”

Zuko wanted to scoff at that. But he didn’t. Royalty? What kind of royalty were they? Two kids playing king and queen aboard a ship too luxurious for word. He almost wanted to rip off the necklace right then and there. His love didn’t need to be bought.

He wasn’t Azula or Ty Lee.

“There's nothing I couldn't give you,” she whispered, unguarded for one rare moment. When Mai’s hand touched his neck, he wanted to bolt. “There's nothing I'd deny you if you would deny me. Open your heart to me, Zuko.” 

Zuko’s hand reached for the necklace. It felt like a dog collar.

Of course her gift was only to reflect light back onto herself, to illuminate the greatness that was Mai Agni. It was a cold stone... a heart of ice. 

* * *

Eighty-four years later, Katara looked away from the ruins of _Titanic_ and back onto Asami’s crew, sitting there with her in that cool room. She exhaled a deep breath. This was getting tiring for her old bones. Still, there was some life in her. As always.

“I can still feel its weight.”

“You remember its weight, Katara?”

She looked over at Korra.

“Oh, dear, yes! I had it in my hand for just a second. As I mentioned. He was right, it was awfully heavy. If you could have felt it, not just seen it…”

“Well, that's the general idea, dear Katara,” said Asami.

“So let me get this right,” giggled Mako. “He was gonna kill himself by jumping off the _Titanic_?! That's great! All he had to do was wait two days!”

Katara pushed herself to her feet. Now was the time to stop for the night, she felt.

“Katara,” pressed on Asami, putting a calm hand on Katara’s arm, “tell us more about the diamond. What did Agni do with it after that?”

“I’m afraid I’m feeling a little tired, Miss Sato.”

Korra got up, gathering Katara’s jacket and the wheelchair.

“Wait!” 

Asami rose up, towering over them. It wasn’t an intimidation tactic, but Katara could see that behind her eyes, she was getting desperate. Probably something about investors or whatever treasure hunters dealt with these days. 

Hands clasped under her chin, Asami continued: 

“Can you give us something to go on, here? Like who had access to the safe? What about this Azula gal? The sister. Did she have the combination? 

“That’s enough.”

Korra raised a hand. Asami nodded.

Katara sat in her chair and was on her merry way, pushed along by Korra. She sent Asami a wave goodbye before they turned the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Conversations on deck.


	5. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

* * *

_And it’s breaking over me_

_A thousand miles down to the sea bed_

* * *

Azula watched as Zuko arrived at breakfast the next morning, after sunrise.

He ate in silence. As usual. But there was something… different about him. It was subtle. An energy. Maybe an attitude. There was _something_ that ticked her off about Zuko. And she had a feeling she knew what had changed. Azula sipped her tea. It was that La girl. She was certain of it. Katara La was trouble, she was a threat. To him, to their lifestyle, to their family. She was a total stranger to him, yet it was clear on his face he felt like she was… good to him. Somehow. For saving his life, perhaps? Or maybe something else was at play here? Something that could turn out to be more. Friendship or something else. Such a scandalous friendship could throw all of Father’s plans away. 

Azula knew about Father’s plans. She had been the one to introduce Zuko to Mai, after all. She wasn’t ignorant to their situation and she knew the Agnis could be good for them, monetarily speaking. That was all that mattered, really. Money. And what difference did it make if Zuko loved Mai or not, if they earned money through that marriage?

“Well, I guess I’ll take my leave. Have a good…”

“That La girl. The girl from last night.”

Zuko froze. He’d risen and was on his way to the door. He’d eaten incredibly quickly and had downed his tea. As if in a rush. Azula herself was still sitting at the breakfast table, spinning tea in her cup with her spoon. 

Silence stretched between them. It was only broken up by her spoon clinking against her cup. There was no one around except them. 

“Yes?” He didn’t turn around. Zuko stood there. Body tense. “What about her?”

“I hope she’ll be finely dressed tonight. Wouldn’t want _her_ to be a disappointment.”

“If I see her… I’ll tell her.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. _If_ you see her. Good day, Zuzu.”

“You too, Azula.”

She watched as he walked away.

From now on, Azula figured she’d have to keep a close eye on Zuko.

* * *

Azula terrified him. That had been true almost as far as Zuko remembered. 

He walked with as much grace as he could while fleeing the Kai family’s private suite. Zuko marched the length of the First Class deck. People eyed him or bowed their heads at him; he answered by doing the same. Zuko tried to keep his composure as he walked down the deck to the roped staircase leading to the Third Class deck. 

No one stopped him on his way down. 

He could feel the steerage people’s stares upon his back, but he managed to ignore them. Zuko walked at a measured pace. This wasn’t as easy in his suit and tie in broad daylight as it had been when he’d worn a blue mask and his dao swords at night. Still, Zuko found his way through the behemoth ship to the Third Class general room, where people gathered to socialize. Zuko hesitated at the top of the staircase. He still didn’t feel quite brave enough to walk down the stairs in plain view of everyone.

So instead, he listened.

Someone was playing a cheerful tune on a piano. Others tapped their feet to the rhythm of the music. There was chatter. Laughter. Old people yelling at each other. Someone yelping and little squeaky sounds. A rat, he presumed. 

Then, feeling himself grow bolder, Zuko took a peek. There were so many people, it was hard to keep track of them all. Kids played chess. Others ran around, playing some game Zuko didn’t know. There was a sea of people, filling up the room. People who chatted, talked, _lived_. People who had come aboard this ship not out of a desire to showcase their luxury, but who were in hope of a better life. Good people who deserved better. 

Zuko thought he saw a glimpse of _her,_ sitting on a bench with a wide, slim leather book on her lap. Yes. That was her. He’d recognize her anywhere; she was a flash of blue in a room full of browns and greys. Next to her, a man with a wolftail who looked a lot like Miss La - the brother she’d mentioned the night before, perhaps? - was trying to woo a young woman. Well, it seemed like he was trying, anyway. He didn’t look like he was succeeding.

“Hi! I, ah, I’m, ah…”

The woman smiled at the wolf-tailed man, looking quite endeared.

“Yes?”

“So… Soooo… ah…”

She offered her hand.“Suki. My name’s Suki. And your name is Sooooo?”

“Sokka.” He cleared his throat and shook her hand. “My name’s Sokka.”

Zuko still stood at the top of the staircase, knees shaking. He’d never felt so nervous in his entire life. Surely he could go and talk to her. Surely he could! His gaze landed on her again, sitting with a little girl who looked bright as sunshine itself. The little girl was looking at whatever Katara was doing with a pencil in that leather book of hers. Writing? Drawing?

Was she an artist, by any chance?

Okay, Zuko tried to hype himself up. Now wasn’t the time to run and hide. He was a Kai, for Spirits’ sake. And if there was anything he knew about the Kais, no matter how dysfunctional his family was, it was that they never gave up without a fight. So Zuko marched down those stairs, probably looking a lot more confident than he felt. Music and conversations died as he stood amongst the steerage people. Eyes turned to him. Staring.

Zuko felt heat blossoming on his face. He cleared his throat. Now wasn’t the time to crack under the pressure. Zuko walked over to Miss La. She rose up from her seat on the bench, blue eyes shining curiously. A few people gasped when he bowed to her.

“Hello, Miss La.”

“Hello, Mr. Kai.”

He straightened to his full height. “May I speak with you? In private?”

“Um… yeah.”

When someone cleared their throat, Zuko’s eyes zeroed-in on the wolf-tailed man who had talked with the young woman earlier - Sokka and Suki, respectively. Sokka gave Zuko a grave stare.

“Bring my sister home before midnight, will you?”

Zuko sputtered. He’d been blushing before and yet his cheeks were on fire now.

“I… I, ah… of course! I… ah…”

A bald boy with a dog and a lemur snickered at that. Others echoed his laughter.

Zuko was barely able to keep whatever dignity he had at the moment.

“Right.” He pulled down on his coat. “Of course.”

“And sure,” cut in Miss La. “I’d be delighted to speak to you in private.”

He nodded curtly. When Miss La dropped her shawl, Zuko reached down for it and wrapped it around his arm. Another young man - looking mischievous with a piece of grass stuck between his teeth - arched his eyebrow at that. He didn’t make any comments, though.

“If you don’t mind,” said Zuko, “I could carry it for you.”

“Oh! No, I don’t mind. Thank you.”

He followed after her all the way to the promenade deck. Zuko thought he heard laughter coming from behind him, maybe in disbelief, but he didn’t turn to look.

Before Zuko knew it, they’d been talking for hours. 

It was easy, Zuko soon found out. The sun shone, bright and warm. The ocean breeze kept them cool even in direct sunlight. And talking with Miss La was easier than anything he’d ever done. When he gazed into those eyes, he found himself talking and talking and talking. Maybe it was to avoid the nerves rattling him. Or maybe it was because he genuinely enjoyed her company. It was most probably that. Because he did. He really did enjoy her company. Miss La always had a story to tell, some advice to give or a joke to make. She made him laugh. Zuko barely laughed anymore.

But now the topic had grown somewhat more serious.

“So after my mother died,” Miss La was explaining, a hand touching her mother’s necklace, “my Dad moved away because he needed to find work. So it really was only me and my brother and my Gran-Gran. When Sokka - that’s my brother - was fifteen and I was fourteen, we set our course for anywhere but here, and left home. Haven’t stopped since.”

“I’m sorry about your mother. It’s something we have in common. Mother died when I was a child. Since then, it’s mostly been Father, Azula and Uncle Iroh.”

“I’m so sorry. A loss like that… it stays with you forever.”

“Thank you.” Zuko sighed deeply, then he continued: “When we left Japan, it was the first time I’d ever left home. It was unsettling, to say the least.”

“That’s the best thing about travelling. It gets you unsettled.”

“It gets some used to, I guess, but yes. I do appreciate it.”

When she gave him that look, Zuko’s heart skipped a beat. He looked away. 

“So,” she said. She was looking out onto the vast ocean sparkling under the sun. Her shawl was back on her shoulders, coiled tightly around her. “We’ve walked a mile around this boat deck and talked about how great the weather is and how I grew up, but… I reckon that’s not why you came up to talk to me, isn’t it?”

She turned around, one fist on her hip and the other gripping part of the rigging. Zuko swallowed. Could she really read him so easily like that?

“Miss La, I…”

“Katara.”

He paused, mouth open. Then, he nodded.

“Katara…” Zuko cleared his throat. He pulled on his collar. “I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion.”

“You’re welcome, Zuko.”

At that moment, he found he liked the way she said his first name. It belonged in her mouth. She’d basically told him he wasn’t Mr. Kai right now. He was Zuko. Just Zuko. 

“Look.” He fidgeted with the hem of his coat while she stood there, back turned to the ocean. The sunlight poured around her. “I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich boy. What does he know about misery?”

“No. That’s not what I was thinking.”

He looked at her. She looked at him. Through him.

“What I was thinking was…” Her voice was soft, without any trace of teasing. “...what could have happened to hurt this boy so much he thought he had no way out?”

“I don’t…”

Zuko paused. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened his mouth...

“It wasn't just one thing. It was everything. It was my whole world and all the people in it. And it was the inertia of my life and me standing there. Powerless to stop it.”

He lifted his hand and showed her his engagement ring. Katara whistled.

“Spirits! Look at that thing. You would’ve gone straight to the bottom.”

“Five hundred invitations have gone out. All of Philadelphia society will be there. We’re having a wedding for the Agnis’ business associates in the United States, then another home in Japan where we’ll settle. And all the while I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even looks up.”

“Do you love her?”

Zuko’s jaw dropped. 

“Excuse me?”

“Do you love her?”

Zuko looked Katara up, down and back up again. He blinked. Twice.

“You’re being very rude. You shouldn’t be asking me this.”

“Well, it’s a simple question. Do you love the gal or not?”

“This is…” Zuko laughed. “This is not a suitable conversation!”

“You just need to answer the question,” countered Katara, a smile pulling up at her lips. She was as stubborn as he was, he realized. “Do you love her, yes or no?”

She wasn’t going to drop it, was she? Zuko chuckled, walking a few paces away. His hand automatically brushed aside some hair that had fallen from his top knot.

“This is absurd! You don’t know me and I don’t know you and we are not having this conversation at all.” Zuko sent glances around, trying to see if, somehow, Azula had followed after them. Or worse. Mai. Zuko faced Katara, who looked like she was enjoying herself a little too much. “You are rude and uncouth and presumptuous and I am leaving now.” He offered her his hand, which she shook. “Katara, Miss La, it’s been a pleasure. I sought you out to thank you and now I have thanked you and…”

“And insulted me,” chuckled Katara, taking his remarks with pride.

“Well, you deserved it!”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Katara looked down at her hand. Which he was still shaking. A little too hard.

“I thought you were leaving.”

Zuko chuckled again in disbelief.

“I am.”

Finally, he dropped her hand and turned around. Then, he spun around once more.

“You are so annoying!”

He started to walk away… and turned around again.

“Wait! I don’t have to leave. This is my part of the ship. You leave!”

With that, he pointed at the Third Class promenade deck. Katara chortled. 

“Oh, oh, oh! Well, well, well! Now who’s being rude?”

Zuko opened his mouth. At a loss for words. Instead of saying anything, he snatched the leather book that was still stuck under her arm. 

“What’s that thing you’re carrying around?” 

He opened it and looked. Charcoal drawings.

“What are you, an artist or something?”

He looked again. And again. She was… actually, she was really good. Zuko bit his lip. She was an _artist_. An actual artist!

“These are rather good. They’re, huh… They’re very good, actually.”

Zuko plopped down on a chaise longue. 

He flipped through her drawings. A man holding his baby. A woman with a little girl, reading a book about Spirits. Zuko flipped through hand sketches and nodded.

“Katara, these are exquisite.”

“Well,” she said, sitting next to him, “they didn’t think too much of them in Paris.”

“Paris? You do get around. For a p...”

He stopped himself. Too late. She’d heard him. Of course, she’d heard him.

“For a poor gal, you can say that.”

Zuko flipped the pages some more. He blinked. Nude portraits, beautifully drawn, respectful and dynamic. Mostly men. Katara wrung her hands together.

“And these were drawn… from life?” 

“Well, that’s one of the good things about Paris,” she explained with a shrug. “Lots of guys and gals willing to pull their clothes off.” 

When Zuko turned the page, one man returned, once again.

“You liked this man. You used him several times.”

“He had beautiful hands.”

Zuko looked at her from the corner of his eyes.

“I think you must have had a love affair with him.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Just with his hands. He had a good sense of humour, though.”

Zuko looked at her, at that smile. She was smiling effortlessly. Almost as if she didn’t know she was smiling. So full of joy and life and _art_. Envy settled in his belly.

“Oh!” Katara flipped to another page. A woman was sitting there, wrapped in jewels around her neck. In Montmartre, Zuko read. “Look at this lady. She used to sit at this bar every night wearing every piece of jewelry she owned waiting for her long lost love. We all called her Madame Bijoux. See, there? Her clothes were all… moth-eaten.”

Zuko licked his lips. He looked at her again, from the corner of his eyes.

“You have a gift, Katara. You do. You see people.”

“I see you.”

With a sly smile, Zuko lifted his nose up.

“And…?”

She blinked.

“You wouldn’t have jumped.”

Zuko dropped his smile. So she did read him like an open book. 

* * *

Toph hated high society.

Nah, nah, nah. Hated was a too kind word. She loathed, she _despised_ high society. With their etiquette and vocabulary and classical music and thinly veiled smiles. At least smiles didn’t work on her. And besides, Toph had a talent for reading people. It came from being an earthbender. And thanks to her bending, she could read everyone’s lies. Or their hurt. Or love. There wasn’t much Earth on this ship, but metal worked just fine. Toph couldn’t bend metal yet - it had never been done before - but she did practice in secret. 

She hoped that Zuko guy was okay. She’d felt his heart the day before at lunch and dinner and, well. There was something about him. Something that hadn’t felt right. At least he had his Uncle. His Uncle who was funny and nice, too. She liked him. He treated her like a person and not the token blind girl.

Those Azula and Mai ladies, though. They were real pieces of work.

Toph tried to slump down in her chair in the lunchroom, but her mother gripped her shoulder and pulled her up. Toph swallowed a sigh.

“Oh no,” groaned Mai in that monotone voice of hers. “That vulgar Brown woman is coming this way. Get up quickly before she sits with us.”

Toph followed when her mother tapped her shoulder. Did she really have to?

Besides, that Molly Brown woman was awesome, if you’d have to ask Toph.

“Hello girls! I was hoping I'd catch you at tea.”

“We're awfully sorry,” almost purred Mai. “You missed it. The Countess, Azula, Toph, Mrs. Beifong and I are just off to take some air on the boat deck.”

“That sounds great. Let's go. I need to catch up on the gossip.”

Toph grinned. She could feel the others begging for a fight. And she knew Molly knew it.

They walked past Mr. Ismay who was talking with the captain about boilers or something. About making the ship go faster. Toph couldn’t bring herself to care. She followed after the ladies into the sun, feeling its warmth on her face. Great. Another afternoon to survive in high society. At least dinner would be interesting. 

She couldn’t wait to meet the girl who had saved that Zuko guy from falling off the ship last night. Toph had a feeling there was more to that story than they were telling.

And if anyone would get to find out, it would be her.

* * *

Somehow, they’d spent all morning and all afternoon talking. And Katara couldn’t help but smile at that. She quite adored that look on Zuko’s face when he smiled as he talked.

He should smile more.

“You know, Katara,” he said, excited beyond words, more excited than she’d ever seen him before, “my dream has always been to just chuck it all and becoming an artist... living in a garret, poor but free!”

Katara snorted. 

“You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any caviar.”

He spun on her, pointing an accusing index finger at her nose.

“I hate caviar!” His golden eyes flashed. “And I'm tired of people dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and a pat on the head.”

“I’m sorry, Zuko.” There was no teasing in her. Just seriousness. “I really am.”

“Besides, I can warm my own water, I’ll have you know.” He winked at her, silently telling her there was no bad blood between them. “Look. There's something in me, Katara. I feel it. I don't know what it is, whether I should be an artist, or, maybe... a dancer, perhaps?”

“How about an actor?” she suggested.

A hand reached up to his scarred eye.

“Oh, I don’t know. They’d probably cast me as a villain.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Or if they do, you’d probably be one of those villains with that… how do they call it? Redemption? The kind that people would adore, where we’d see you turn from bad to good. And who knows? Maybe fall for the good girl.”

He rolled his eyes. 

“The hero always gets the girl. We all know that.”

“Maybe not this time.” Katara leaned against the railing, looking out upon the vast ocean. The breeze toyed with her hair loopies. She breathed the salty air in, eyes closed. “Maybe this time she figures out that she likes the guy with the rugged smile, the guy with a rough past and thick walls shielding him from the outside world. Maybe she reaches out to him and he answers, he opens up to her. Maybe he hurts her, he betrays her, as villains are wont to do, but then he makes it up to her and before they know it, they’re married and living happily ever after together. A force to be reckoned with.”

“I like that ending. It sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. Zuko looked awed. Eyes glowing in the sun. Katara curled an arm around his own and pulled him along.

“Let’s keep on walking.”

A few minutes later, they stood at the railing, looking at each other. By the time the sky was burning in oranges and pinks, turning the afternoon into sunset, Katara was still talking. About herself and about where she and her brother had been. And there were many, many, many places they had been. For a moment she wondered if he would ever tire of hearing her talk, but then Zuko encouraged her, with a nudge of his elbow and a whispered “please, please continue.” She could only oblige. 

“Well, then logging got to be too much like work, so me and my brother Sokka went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. That's a swell place, they even have a rollercoaster. I sketched portraits there for ten cents a piece.”

Zuko raised his eyebrow at her.

“A whole ten cents?”

“Yeah! It was great money... I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. Then not long after that, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing.”

Zuko sighed. The sun glowed in his molten gold eyes.

“Why can't I be like you, Katara? Just…” He waved his hand at the ocean. “...head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it.” His eyes searched hers. Zuko leaned forward, like he was sharing a secret with her. “Say we'll go there, sometime... to that pier... even if we only ever just talk about it.”

Katara nodded.

“All right! We're going. We'll drink cheap beer and go on the rollercoaster until we throw up.” He chuckled at that. “And we'll ride horses on the beach... right in the surf. But we’re both going to ride like cowboys, I’m not doing that side-saddle stuff.”

“A woman riding like that? My crowd would say it’s scandalous.”

“I say a little scandal never hurt anybody.”

Katara bumped his hip with hers. Zuko coughed, pink appearing on his cheeks. His voice turned teasing, pulling on the worst Southern accent she’d ever heard.

“We’ll ride like men.”

“And chew tobacco like men.”

“And spit like men!”

“Come on.” She chuckled at him. “You think I went to finishing school? I already know how to do that. What about you?” 

“Me? No! And I’ll have you know I had private tutors.”

“Come on, I’ll show you.” 

“What?!”

Katara grabbed Zuko’s hand and pulled him after her. He looked panicked.

“What are you doing?! Katara!”

“Watch closely.”

They stood further down the deck. Katara brought her head back. She made a disgusting kind of sound and spat into the ocean. Zuko burst out laughing.

She really liked that sound.

“That’s disgusting!”

“Your turn.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Zuko, _your_ turn.”

“No, no, no. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

He looked around. Then, he spat a tiny spittle into the ocean.

“Nope, that was pitiful. Here, like this…” She stood back, shoulders squared. “You hawk it down... HHHNNNK!... then roll it on your tongue, up to the front, like thith, then a big breath and PLOOOW!! You see the range on that thing?”

“That’s disgusting!”

“You already said that. And that’s the whole point. Now try again.”

Zuko tried again. He really tried, this time. Katara clapped.

“That was great! My turn.”

Just as she was about to throw the spit out into the ocean, Zuko stood up straight.

“Mai!”

Katara spun around. She swallowed and quickly wiped at her chin. Mai’s eyes looked from Zuko to Katara and then back again. Mai wasn’t alone. She was with Zuko’s sister, two other women and a younger girl Katara didn’t know. Soon enough, they were even met by Zuko’s father Ozai, who’d decided that this was the right time to meet the girl who had saved his son. Great. Wonderful. Just her luck.

“Father, Mai, Azula, everyone. This is Katara La. She’s…”

The others were gracious and curious about the woman who'd saved Zuko’s life the night before, during his moment of sudden interest in the ship’s mechanics. But Ozai and Mai looked at Katara like an insect. A dangerous insect which must be squashed quickly. 

“Well, Katara, it sounds like you're a good woman to have around in a sticky spot.” One of the women winked at her. Molly Brown. Katara soon realized she liked that woman. Molly paused when the bugle sounded for dinner. She groaned. “Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?”

“Ah, ladies! And my brother and my nephew, too!”

They all turned to see a jovial old man who had arrived, a wide smile on his face. The same old man who had given Zuko a cup of tea the night before, Katara remembered. 

His uncle, then

“Are we getting ready for dinner?”

“Yes, Uncle,” said Zuko. “Katara, meet my Uncle. Iroh.”

“Delighted to officially meet you,” he said warmly, shaking her hand. “I only caught the end of your conversation, I’m afraid, but don’t worry,” he added with a wink. “I have a feeling I’ll get to know the details soon enough.”

“That’s right. Now shall we go dress, Toph?” asked the Beifong woman.

Toph herself rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Mother. See you at dinner, Katara.”

Mai made a big show of wrapping herself around Zuko’s arm, as she had done the night before. Zuko nodded and sent Katara an apologetic smile before walking away. And with that, Zuko, Mai and everyone else soon disappeared out of sight. All except Iroh and Molly Brown who stood there, eying Katara. 

“Sweetheart,” said Molly, her face entirely serious, “do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?”

Katara shrugged.

“Not really.”

“Well,” continued Molly, that seriousness still plain on her face, “you're about to go into the snakepit. I hope you're ready. What are you planning to wear?”

Katara spread her arms wide, pointing at herself. Iroh chuckled.

“I figured.” Molly _tsk_ ed, looking hesitant. “If only I could make you wear a suit. I’d have the perfect one for you.”

“No worries,” cut in Iroh, lifting a hand. With his other hand, he stroked his beard pensively. “I have just the dress. Follow me, Miss Katara.”

Katara followed Iroh “call me Uncle” to his room. She tried not to stare at… at everything, really. Iroh told her to get comfortable as he disappeared through a door. His bedroom, she presumed. Katara dropped down on a couch, sitting at the very edge. Everything was gold and dark burgundy. This suite was a work of art, in and of itself. A minute or so later, Iroh returned with that warm smile still on his face. He put a large white box on her lap and stood off to the side. When Katara eyed him curiously, he waved a hand.

“Go on! Open it.”

She obliged. A pearl white corset and a dress more beautiful than she’d ever laid eyes upon, of a deep, rich navy blue, were in the box. Katara gasped. 

“Oh, no. Iroh! I can’t possibly…”

“Can’t possibly what, Miss Katara? Wear this? You can’t go naked, now can you?”

“But…”

“And if you’re going in your day clothes, it’ll be as if you were naked to those folks.”

Katara’s shoulders drooped. She nodded, defeated.

“You won’t take no for an answer, won’t you?”

“I believe you’re as stubborn as my nephew and my nephew takes after me, so no. I will not take no for an answer.”

Katara smiled.

“All right. Let me get dressed.”

When Katara walked out of the changing room, Iroh beamed at her with pride. Her hands were adorned with white gloves and her dress touched the floor, but she’d never felt as vulnerable as she did right about now. Iroh spun a finger and Katara spun slowly around, showing off her ensemble from all angles. He chuckled, hands clasped together.

“I was right! You and Song, my late son Lu Ten’s wife, were about the same size.”

“You have a dress that belongs to your late son’s wife?”

Iroh looked… downhearted at that.

“I packed the wrong suitcase. She and my son died a few years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” 

Iroh had Katara sit in a chair in front of the mirror. She undid her hair loopies, saying it was fine for one evening, and let him style her hair. Iroh piled it behind her head in an intricate updo. Once finished, he looked at her through the mirror and tapped his nose.

“There’s something… missing. I believe.”

Iroh produced something that sparkled in the light. Hair ornaments, Katara realized when he started weaving jewelry into her hair. He finished with a pearl bracelet he wrapped around her wrist. Then, he looked at her once more, hands on his hips.

“There! Now I’m done.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly accept…”

“You’re going to wear this and you’re going to wear this with pride, Miss Katara,” he cut her off, slow and steady. “You’re going to walk with your head held high, wear these white gloves and that bracelet and muster as much confidence as you can.”

“Yes, Mr. Kai. Iroh. Uncle! I mean.”

“Good. I have a matching necklace, but you seem quite attached to yours.”

“Yes.” Her hand reached for her mother’s necklace in a familiar gesture. “It was my Mother’s. She died when I was eight.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss. Truly.” He put two warm hands on her shoulders, giving them an encouraging squeeze. “There. Now. It all starts with your attitude. Believe that you can. Even if you can’t.”

“Got it. I think.”

When Katara rose up, the light caught her hair ornaments. Making her shine.

Katara gasped. 

“I look… I look…”

“You look like a diamond, shining in the light for the first time.”

Katara turned around. She fought back tears, blinking furiously.

“How can I ever thank you?”

“Don’t.” He put his hands on her arms this time, looking into her eyes. “You’re family, now. And… And the whole story about going overboard because he wanted to see the propellers? That doesn’t sound like Zuko at all. I know there must be more to this story.”

“I… he doesn’t want anyone to…”

“My nephew values his privacy dearly. But I have to know. Did he try to jump?”

Katara couldn’t lie to him. She couldn’t lie to those pleading eyes.

“Yes. Yes, he tried.”

“And you saved him.”

“I couldn’t let him… What else was I supposed to do?”

“Miss Katara, you didn’t do anything wrong! You did the right thing, on the contrary. You’re kind and compassionate, but I want to warn you. Those people you’re going to meet tonight? They wouldn’t have done what you’ve done. They wouldn’t have cared. Had it been a complete stranger, they would’ve looked the other way. I want to prepare you for that.”

“Thank you.”

“No. You brought me my nephew back. _I’m_ the one who can’t thank you enough.”

“Uncle…”

“Ah! See?” He poked her nose. “You called me Uncle. We’re on the right track.” 

With that, he pushed her towards the door. 

“Now, go get ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the hero always gets the girl part was about Bryke. It's also probably one of my favourite conversations in this entire fic. So eff you, Bryke.
> 
> Next chapter: A dinner and a party.


	6. Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

* * *

_Found a place to rest my head_

_Never let me go, never let me go_

* * *

Katara found herself at the top of the staircase, unable to go down.

Two stewards had opened the door for her, had said a “good evening, Miss,” and she’d nodded at them with just the right amount of disdain. Now here she was, standing under the glass dome. Her bravado from earlier was gone, replaced with nervous butterflies in her stomach. She wrung her gloved hands together, looking over the railing to the floor down below. A chandelier sparkled in the light. Classical music fluttered in her ear. 

What was she doing? She didn’t belong here. This wasn’t her world.

Uncle Iroh’s voice rang in her ears.

_Believe that you can. Even if you can’t._

Katara took in a deep breath. She squared her shoulders, head held high, and started walking down those stairs. Some people sent her glances, maybe wondering why a proper lady like her was walking without a chaperone. Katara almost scoffed at the idea. 

Her. A proper lady.

Katara nodded curtly at the First Class passengers and they nodded back. 

When Katara reached the bottom of the staircase, she looked up at the clock, ticking away on the landing. She still had time. She had a head start, even.

“Well, if it isn’t Sugar Queen.”

Katara spun around. _Sugar Queen?_

Her gaze landed on the small girl from earlier. Toph. The Beifong daughter. Katara relaxed with an exhaled breath. She liked Toph. She may look like a proper girl on the outside, but she could see a spirit behind that smile.

“Sugar Queen?” 

“Don’t mind me, I like nicknames. It’s not impolite. I mean… it isn’t, right?”

There was a hint of hesitation in Toph’s voice.

Oh. Katara could bet she didn’t have a lot of friends her age. She must be about Aang’s age, from the looks of her. 

“It’s not, I actually like it. I’m no Queen, though.”

“Trust me. In Sparky’s eyes, you’re one.”

“Sparky?”

That smile showed all her teeth.

“Mr. Kai, yeah.”

At the sound of Zuko’s name, Katara’s heart beat faster. Could Toph hear it? It seemed like it, because Toph bit hard on her bottom lip, refraining a full-on giggle, as far as Katara could tell. Toph cocked her head to the side.

“So. You and Sparky, huh?”

“I… I don’t… know what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t lie to me.”

“I don’t even know you.”

Toph walked a step forward, standing toe-to-toe with Katara. Even though Toph was smaller, Katara still felt herself squirm. An index finger tapped against Katara’s chest, right where her heart was. Katara stood there, rooted to the spot. Some people were eying them, whispering in hushed tones, especially at Toph, but Toph didn’t seem to notice.

She probably did, though.

“I’m an earthbender. I can feel your heart’s vibrations through this ship.”

“There’s no earth, here. Except maybe the coal in the boiler rooms.”

Toph’s smile turned feral. “Metal is only purified earth.”

“You can bend _metal?_ ”

“Not yet. But I’m working on it.”

“That’s amazing! I… I’m a waterbender. I’m still looking for my Master.”

“I learned from the badgermoles, at home,” said Toph as if that wasn’t incredible in and of itself. “Maybe you should look for the original source of bending.”

“Tui and La. The Ocean and Moon Spirits. But they’re… far away. Up North.”

“So? You’re on a ship, Katara! Travelling is a thing, you know.”

“You’re right. Maybe I should start looking instead of wandering.”

Toph straightened then. It was almost imperceptible, but Katara saw it. Her head turned over Katara’s shoulder. She didn’t lose that smile, though.

“Oh, oh, oh! Your heart beat’s about to quicken _fast._ ”

“What do you mean?”

“Turn around.”

Katara did. Her eyes landed on… _Zuko_ . He looked resplendent, glowing under the dome as he walked down the staircase. He wore his most expensive suit, she was sure, in crisp black and white. His cufflinks glistened and his hair shone in the light of the chandelier. His hair was pulled all the way to the back of his head in a bun instead of in a top knot. It sharpened his features, making his chin razor sharp. Even more than usual. He looked… handsome. No, he looked _beautiful._ Down to his sparkling shoes.

Behind Katara, Toph snorted.

“Typical.”

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Zuko looked down at her. Even though they were now on the same floor, he was still taller than her. His eyes glided over her, from her face to her pearl bracelet to her feet, and Katara blushed. His whole face softened.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You look beautiful.”

“You look beautiful, too.”

Zuko reached for her hand. At first, she thought he was going to shake it, but instead, he bowed forward and pressed his lips to the back of her gloved knuckles. If Katara didn’t feel warm yet, she felt like she was standing in the middle of a desert now.

“Wow,” whispered Toph. “You got it _bad_.”

If Zuko heard her, he didn’t let it show.

“I saw that in a nickelodeon once,” said Katara, her other hand brushing a curl out of her eyes, “and I always wanted someone to do that for me.”

Zuko smiled. “I’m glad I could be that someone.”

Behind Katara, Toph whistled.

“ _Ooooooh,_ he’s got it just as bad as you do, Sugar Queen.”

Again, they ignored her.

“Shall we?” He straightened back up, standing tall above everyone, and offered her his arm. She curled her hand around his elbow. “We wouldn’t want to be late.”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

He led her off to the side of the staircase, where Mai was chatting with Azula. Or, well. From the looks of it, Azula was chatting sarcastically away and Mai listened in silence, back turned to them. Katara faintly heard Toph follow after them.

“Mai, surely you remember Miss La?”

When Mai spun around, her eyes landed on Katara.

“La.” There was some mockery in there, along with surprise. Katara smiled, clinging to Zuko’s arm. “I didn’t even recognize you.” 

At Mai’s side, Azula looked Katara over, eyes sharp.

“Amazing,” said Azula. “You could _almost_ pass for a lady.”

Katara’s smile turned cold.

“Almost.”

Taking this as his cue, Zuko excused them from this conversation and guided them down the staircase again. Toph stayed close behind. Soon enough, Uncle Iroh appeared through the crowd. He took Katara’s other hand and wrapped it around his arm. She was now arm in arm with uncle and nephew. Toph wrapped herself around Uncle’s other arm with a grin. Molly Brown herself finished their little group, taking Zuko’s other arm.

“Ain’t nothing to it, is there, Katara?” asked Molly.

“Yeah, you just dress like a character in a play and keep your nose up.”

“This does feel like an Ember Island play,” chuckled Uncle Iroh.

“Oh, Katara! Remember,” Toph reminded her over Uncle’s shoulder. “The only thing they respect is money, so just act like you've got a lot of it and you're in the club.”

Katara thanked her. Zuko leaned down to whisper in Katara’s ear.

“Want a little overview of the guest list for tonight?”

“Oh, please, give me all the juicy details.” 

“There's the Countess Rothes. And that's John Jacob Astor... the richest man on the ship. His little wife there, Madeleine, is just a year older than Toph and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it? Quite the scandal.”

Katara nodded, though she enjoyed Zuko’s sly grin more than the gossip.

“And over there, that's Sir Cosmo and Lucile, Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs naughty lingerie, among her many talents. Very popular with the royals.”

“Really? I bet I’d like to try those out.”

Red creeped up Zuko’s neck up to his scar. Toph and Molly snickered. A light twinkled in Uncle’s eye. Zuko cleared his throat and looked away, back at the crowd of affluent people. “And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert. Mrs. Guggenheim is at home with the children, of course.”

“Of course,” she snorted.

When they reached Mai, she was talking with a group of ladies their age. They all sent appreciative looks at Zuko. Katara tried not to look too protective. They were looking at him as if he were a prized horse at a show. Purebred. Katara wanted to laugh at that. If Zuko was anything, he was a wild mustang, biding his time to be freed again.

“Mai, he’s splendid,” said someone.

“Thank you.”

“If it wasn’t for that scar on his face. It ruins him, really. What a pity.”

Zuko stiffened. Katara saw Toph’s hands tighten on Iroh’s other arm. Molly clenched her jaw. Katara, as discreetly as possible, rubbed circles on the small of Zuko’s back. His shoulders drooped. They were talking about him as if Zuko wasn’t there, as if he was an object, part of the furniture. As if he belonged to Mai. In a way, he did. But not in spirit.

“Mai’s a lucky woman,” said another girl. “I know her well and it can only be luck.”

“How can you say that, _mademoiselle_?”

Zuko’s father appeared as if out of thin air and curled an arm around Mai’s. When his golden eyes found Katara’s, she found herself looking right back at him, chin up. Staring right into his eyes. He smiled. Katara hated Ozai immediately.

“Mai Agni is quite a catch.”

Ozai sent Zuko a pointed look. Zuko himself cleared his throat. He nodded. Then, he slipped his arm out of Molly’s and Uncle moved aside, continuing alone with Toph. Zuko brought Katara over to the Astors and offered them a polite smile.

“J.J., Madeleine, I’d like you to meet Katara La.”

“Good to meet you, Miss Katara. Are you of the Boston Las?”

A beat.

“No, the Chippewa Falls Las, actually.”

“... Oh.”

With another nod, Zuko glided across the dining room floor, bringing Katara along for the ride. They shared a smile. Grinning. She was so very nervous but somehow, she never faltered. They assumed she was one of them... the daughter of a captain of industry perhaps... new money, obviously, but still a member of the club. Soon, they were seated, with Katara opposite Zuko and in-between Molly and Uncle Iroh. For that, she was grateful.

Ozai, of course, could always be counted upon...

“Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Miss La,” he said with a polite smile that looked predatory from here. “I hear they're quite good on this ship.”

She swallowed down any bitter remark.

“The best I've seen, sir. Hardly any rats.”

Giggles and chuckles travelled around the table. Mai took this as her cue.

“Miss La is joining us from Third Class. I know it seems obvious, but I just had to point it out. She was of some assistance to my fiancé last night.”

“It turned out Miss La is a fine artist,” said Zuko, shooting Mai a glance. Then, he turned to Katara, a smile appearing on his face without hesitation, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “She was kind enough to show me her work today. She’s also a waterbender.”

“A waterbender?” Molly eyed Katara with an appreciative smile. “You?” When Katara nodded, she laughed. “Well, this one’s full of surprises!”

“Zuko and I differ on our definition of fine art,” said Mai, coming back to the discussion at hand. “Not to impugn your work, miss.”

Katara waved a hand. Dismissive.

When a waiter arrived with the champagne, Zuko cleared his throat, silky napkin in hand. With a nod, Katara dropped hers on her lap. Her gaze landed on the hundreds of silver cutlery around her plate. She leaned over to Molly and felt Uncle Iroh’s hand, reassuring, on her forearm. Katara asked Molly:

“Are these all for me?”

“Just start from the outside and work your way in.”

Zuko complimented Mr. Andrews on his wonderful ship, a work of art, as another waiter started piling caviar on their plates. Katara swallowed.

“How do you take your caviar, Miss?”

“No caviar for me, thanks. Never did like it much.”

Toph, on the other side of the table, covered a grin with her hand. Katara saw Zuko smile from the corner of her eye.

“And where exactly do you live, Miss La?” asked Ozai.

“Well, right now my address is the R.M.S. _Titanic_ ,” she answered, not missing a beat. “After that, I'm on Tui and La’s good humor.”

Some nodded. 

“And how is it you have means to travel?”

“Me and my brother Sokka work from place to place. You know, tramp steamers and such. But I won our tickets on _Titanic_ here in a game of poker. A very lucky hand.”

She looked over at Zuko. He was smiling again.

“All life is a game of luck,” said Colonel Gracie.

“A _real_ woman makes her own luck. Right, La?” asked Azula smoothly, speaking for the first time, fork halfway to her mouth.

Again, Katara nodded, having nothing to say to that.

Mai hummed, putting down her champagne glass.

“And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?”

Katara thought she saw Molly’s entire face stiffen, staring Mai down. This time, though, Katara had something to say to that.

“Yes, Miss, I do. I mean… I’ve got everything I need with me. Got the air in my lungs and a few blank sheets of paper.” She took a bite of bread and swallowed before continuing. “I mean, I love waking up in the morning and not knowing what’s gonna happen.” Another bite of her bread. “Or who I’m gonna meet.”

Katara’s eyes found Zuko’s. He looked transfixed. 

Hypnotized.

“... or where I’m gonna wound up. Just the other night, I was sleeping under a bridge. And now,” Katara said as she lifted her glass, “here I am on the grandest ship in the world drinking champagne with you fine people.”

Humble chuckles followed her compliment. Katara took a sip and put her glass down.

“I figure life’s a gift and I don’t tend on wasting it. You never know what hand you’re gonna get handed next. You learn to take life as it comes at you.” She took a pause as she smiled at all of them. “To make each day count.”

“Well said, Katara,” said Molly.

“That’s what I was gonna say,” grinned Toph.

“It seems I’m not the only one full of wisdom,” joked Iroh.

“Hear, hear!” added Colonel Gracie.

Zuko lifted his glass, that transfixed look still on his face. 

“To making it count.”

Everyone raised their glass, making it an official toast. A second later, Katara raised her champagne glass, too. She was looking at Zuko as they drank.

Soon enough, the band’s music grew louder in her ears. Dessert came and went, the finest plates Katara had ever seen being brought and taken away by waiters like clockwork. They were all a little tipsy, pink on their cheeks and noses. Molly was telling a joke Katara was half-listening to. People laughed. Katara chuckled. Her eyes found Zuko’s.

“Next,” Zuko whispered only to her, leaning over the table, “it’ll be brandies in the Smoking Room for the men. The ladies will keep on chatting here, though.”

“Well,” said Colonel Gracie, rising up. “Join me for a brandy, gentlemen?”

Zuko winked. Ozai rose up. Uncle Iroh followed suit. Looking downright miserable.

“Now,” Zuko whispered again, leaning even closer, “they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe.”

“Joining us, Zuko? You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?”

Zuko opened his mouth to answer, but Katara spoke instead.

“If you want to go, go. I’m heading back.”

“So soon?” purred Azula. 

Katara wanted to slap her. She tried to swallow her own tongue instead and nodded.

“Probably best.” To Zuko, Ozai said: “Thinking about it, don’t come. It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. Wouldn't interest you.”

“Maybe Azula should come,” said Mai. “Politics have always interested _her._ ”

Toph _tsk_ ed. Zuko looked down.

“Good of you to come, though, Miss La.”

She nodded at Ozai. Then, Katara gave Molly’s pen back under the table. She rose to her feet with as much elegance as she could muster, then she walked over to Zuko and took his hand. She slipped a little piece of paper, folded in over itself, between his fingers. Zuko’s eyes lit up, quizzical. She bent down and, never breaking eye contact, kissed his knuckles. Katara heard Zuko hold his breath.

“Time for me to go back home. And before midnight, too.”

She winked. 

Zuko swallowed. “Must you go?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Katara left, sending him a look over her shoulder halfway to the door. Instead of going back to the Third Class deck, though, she stood at the clock, on the landing. She kept her back turned to the staircase, counting the seconds. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine… a minute. He should be on his way by now. Footsteps shuffled behind her. She heard him take a sharp breath and exhale. She heard him choose.

She heard him choose _her_.

Katara spun around, a soft smile stretching on her face.

“You want to go to a real party?”

Zuko nodded. He reached her, one step down, and was exactly at the right height to be eye-to-eye with her. He looked even more beautiful from this close.

“I’d love to.”

“Hurry up, Sparky!” called someone. They both looked to see Toph standing at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed over her chest. “That party won’t wait for us!”

“Is Toph coming?” asked Zuko.

“I guess she is now.”

* * *

The Third Class general room vibrated with music.

Zuko looked at Toph. She went on with the folks in Third Class like a house on fire. That’s what Zuko figured out five minutes into the party. Toph was currently arm wrestling with one of the men who shared Katara’s room, he realized. She belched loudly. A much more reserved Zuko sat on a bench, looking at everything. All at once. There was dancing, laughing, card playing, beer drinking... Sokka was dancing with Suki and he asked her if it was okay to put his hand on the small of her back. She nodded with a wide smile. Zuko took in the smells of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. He coughed. Those smells were not pleasant, sure, but different than anything he was used to. 

And different was exactly what Zuko needed right now.

Zuko clapped to the rhythm of the music, feeling the violins, lutes and drums in his bones. Katara was dancing with Meng, with her standing on Katara’s feet. Zuko tried not to stare too much. When Zuko felt eyes poking holes in the back of his head, he turned around. He saw a man looking back at him with disgust, strand of grass in his mouth. The same guy from that morning. Jet, he’d been told earlier.

“Yes?” asked Zuko.

“What does she see in you? It’s probably because you’re rich.”

Jet sent Katara a nod with his head. Zuko took this seriously. Very.

“You know, I’ve been asking myself the same question.” Zuko shrugged, though his eyes were sharp when he told Jet: “It’s probably because I don’t look at her like she’s a piece of meat mounted on legs. Or because I respect her enough to think she somehow finds something in me instead of accusing her of being a gold digger.”

A bald boy - Aang, he’d met earlier - guffawed. Jet’s face scrunched up as if he’d swallowed a lemon. He scuttled away.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come around,” said Aang with a grin. “And nice one!”

“Thanks. I mean it.”

Aang buried his hand in his dog’s fur. Appa drooled on his lap.

“You’re a firebender, huh?”

“How could you tell?”

“I can feel your warmth in the air.” When Zuko blinked at him, Aang put his other hand over his heart and explained: “I’m an airbender.”

“An airbender, really? I thought you guys were rare. No offense.”

“None taken. And nah, that’s just a misconception. We know how to hide well.”

A shadow surrounded them. A tiny shadow. Hands grabbed Aang’s. 

Toph.

“Come on! Dance with me, Twinkle Toes!”

“Oh… Sure! But who’s Twinkle Toes?”

“You, of course!”

Toph pulled him to his feet, dragging him along with her. She stepped onto the makeshift elevated dance floor. When Aang sent Zuko a quizzical look over his shoulder, he shrugged, palms up. As if saying, “what else are you gonna do?” Aang jumped with supernatural ease onto the dance floor. He spun Toph around. Zuko’s gaze then landed on Katara. She’d stopped dancing with Meng and had turned… to him. 

Zuko felt warm all over again.

“I want to dance with him, now, okay?” Katara told Meng.

Meng pouted. 

“You’re still my best girl, Meng.”

At that, Meng smiled. She nodded. Meng sent Zuko a glance before leaving with a mischievous grin. He didn’t particularly like the look on that face. And he hesitated when Katara approached him, offering him her hand.

“May I have this dance, sir?”

He half-wanted to say no. But then he couldn’t say no to those eyes.

“I don’t know the steps,” he said instead.

“Me neither, just move with me. Don’t think.”

“Okay.” He took her hand and rose up. “I guess.”

“Come on, we’re gonna have to be a little closer.”

Her hand reached for the small of his back and suddenly, he was sharing her space. Zuko almost stopped breathing. No way was he going to dance now. All he could think about was her and her only. Her and those eyes…

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“It’ll be okay, Zuko.”

He nodded. Zuko took one of Katara’s hands in his and put the other on her waist.

“Your hands are warm,” she commented with a smile.

“Firebender. Guilty as charged.”

“I never said that was a bad thing.”

Then, they started to dance. Something like a waltz, but fast and quick. With kicking feet and a lot of bouncing around. No structure whatsoever. Zuko laughed. He liked that. No structure meant freedom. It meant doing whatever you wanted. It meant _being_ free.

“Wanna dance up there?” asked Katara, pointing at the elevated dance floor.

“Uh… I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

To her, it was such an easy thing to say. But to Zuko, it meant the world. 

Finally. He could say no and she wouldn’t question it.

_Finally._

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’d like to.”

They stepped up on the dance floor and Toph, taking Aang’s hand in hers, jumped off. When Zuko heard Aang ask her why, Toph answered by saying:

“I want to watch!”

She pointed at her feet, freed from their shoes and socks, and winked again.

They were awkward, at first. Until Katara removed her shoes, gave them to a passing lady, and offered him that smile. Zuko felt bolder than ever. He took off his jacket, leaving only his crisp white shirt and black vest. Someone whistled. Zuko rolled up his sleeves. He put a hand behind his head and ripped off his bun, hair falling around his face. Someone else whooped. He put the tip of his hands in his pocket, where they felt safest, and spun around, kicking to the rhythm. A sloppy attempt at tap dancing. He stopped then, barely out of breath, and spread his arms wide. As if to ask, “you think you can do better than me?”

Katara arched an eyebrow at him.

Her eyes answered silently: “Sure I can!”

She hitched up her skirt, revealing her ankles. Zuko swallowed. He wasn’t staring, he really wasn’t. But when she started to dance, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. She spun around and jumped around, feet kicking to the rhythm. Katara spun around once more and stopped, facing him. She spread her arms wide. 

Provoking. 

Zuko put himself in a bending stance, legs spread out and low at the knees. He lifted two hands. Balls of orange fire covered his palms.

People ooooohed.

Katara grinned. Energized. He liked that look on her face.

She put herself in a bending position. Katara waved her arms. Water whips - a combination of liquid taken from a few people’s glasses - wrapped around her arms.

People aaaaaaahed.

They started circling each other, something like sparring. Dance-like. He punched fireballs at her head. She blocked. She sent her water whisps at his chest. He jumped. Zuko rolled to the ground, in the middle of the dance floor, and spun upon his back. A ring of fire surrounded him, extinguished by Katara’s circling water whip. Zuko jumped back to his feet.

They feigned, attacked, countered. Feigned, attacked, countered. At a standstill.

An equal match.

Zuko breathed in and out, in and out. He circled around her once more. She followed his lead. It had been a while since he’d gotten a true workout. This wasn’t like his firebending practice. This was active, fast-paced, alive. Back and forth, push and pull. This was _fun_. Katara kept him on his toes, never backing down from a fight. 

But now was time for the grand finale.

Zuko breathed. Filling his lungs with air. The fire inside him burned brighter. Hotter. 

Now. He was ready.

Zuko struck. People’s gasps could be heard above the music. He’d almost forgotten they had an audience. He threw a plume of fire at her. A burst of light, red and orange and yellow and white. Katara grinned. She responded by sending a blast of water his way. Fire and water met in the middle. Their elements exploded in a cloud of steam. Zuko stopped moving, standing there, wet and panting. Katara appeared through hot white fog. They met in the middle of the dance floor, holding each other at the elbows. Strands of hair stuck to her face. The jewels in her hair sparkled in the light. Katara laughed at the ceiling, skin shining with sweat, blue eyes closed with delight, and heart open. Happy and so _free_. 

That’s when he realized he loved her.

Zuko didn’t have the time to register this information when her hands grasped his. Katara took a step back and started to spin them around. Fast. _Faster_. Zuko laughed. The room rushed by in a blur and there was nothing but Katara then. Nothing but her and him, holding hands, spinning and spinning and…

Zuko slipped on the wet floor. His shoulder hurt from where it hit the ground. Harsh. They landed in a pile of limbs on the floor, with him on his back and Katara falling on top of him. Not unlike when she’d saved him. Straddling his hips. He blushed. She did, too. Katara grimaced a smile, looking guilty.

“Sorry!” 

“I’m the one who fell!”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Here! Let me help.”

He jumped to his feet, looking down at her. Zuko offered her his hand. He didn’t know it at that moment, but when he did, Katara saw him as he had never been before. 

Happy. Carefree. 

Zuko’s skin glowed with sweat. Flushed. His golden eyes gleamed. His hair stuck to his face and his smile was wide. His drenched shirt was transparent in places, revealing his lean frame and muscles. He irradiated warmth. He was _beautiful._

She accepted his hand and he lifted her up. For a moment, the room vanished. There was nothing but Katara and Zuko in their own world, standing on the dance floor.

Zuko didn’t know it, but this was the moment Katara realized she loved him. 

Zuko didn’t know it, but everyone watching knew.

* * *

Iroh puffed out smoke. He hated brandy and cigars, but he followed along in silence. It was cold in here, colder than ice. Maybe not in temperature, but in the people who were there. Grown men acting like king of the castle. It was quiet here also, so quiet you could hear the mindless chatter. He eyed with a critical eye whatever plan his brother had been concocting. When Azula stepped into the room though, keeping to the walls, he knew trouble was brewing. She whispered something in Ozai’s ear. He heard.

“They haven’t found him. I’ll do it myself.”

With that, she left.

Iroh took another drink and swallowed. He missed his tea.

* * *

Later, after they’d taken a break from dancing and sparring, they sat at a table with Jet - who didn’t look sour for once in his life -, Sokka, Suki, Aang, and some men who were armwrestling with Toph. She was armwrestling with _both_ men. At the same time. Their fists smashed against the table again and with a cackle of glee, Toph gathered the money she’d won with bets. Katara looked over at Zuko, who was currently tying his hair back at the base of his neck, sweating in the jam-packed room. He laughed as a man fell and overturned a table, drunk. The man rose to his feet and was handed another drink. Zuko took a long swig of his own beer, eyes sparkling. She liked the way he laughed. He should laugh even more. 

That’s when he caught her eye.

“What?” He jeered without any hint of seriousness in his voice. “You think a First Class boy doesn’t know how to drink?”

Katara chuckled, shrugging. When Sokka said something about Toph being strong “for a girl”, Zuko’s eyes turned piercing. Looking at her brother. Zuko stood up.

“You think men are stronger, huh? Stronger than women and girls? You know what kind of strength it takes to do ballet?” 

They all looked at Zuko as if he’d grown a second head. 

“Ballet?”

He looked at Sokka, dead serious. “Yeah. Ballet.”

“I don’t know. It’s a girl dance. How hard can it be?”

Zuko opened and closed his hands, as if he was trying to hype himself up. Then, he removed his shoes and looked over at Katara. He gave her a sharp grin. She smiled back. Zuko arched his arms in front of him. Like an experienced ballet dancer. Then he rose up and up and up, until he was on the tip of his toes. The _very tip_ of his toes. 

Zuko’s face twisted with pain. Katara jumped up, standing off to the side in case he needed help. Just in case. Sokka, Jet, Aang, Suki… they all stared at him in awe. Toph’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

Then Zuko fell.

And Katara was right there to catch him.

People clapped. Zuko and Katara stayed like that, with him having an arm around her shoulders and her holding her. Zuko laughed a breathy laugh. When Sokka asked him what in the Spirits’ names that was, he said, without moving:

“I did ballet for a while. Along with dao sword fighting when people didn’t think I was a firebender. Girls are strong, Sokka. Trust me. I was the only boy in my class. It’s just that we undervalue their strength at being a ‘girly’ thing.”

Toph laughed at that. “I like this guy!”

“Me too.” Suki chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to try ballet. Too high class for the likes of me. Fanfighting’s more my style anyway. Hey Katara, you wanna share him?”

She looked deeper into his eyes.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Zuko laughed at that. They laughed together.

“Whatever,” Sokka grumbled. “He better not hurt my sister, though.”

“Sparky? Nah. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Meanwhile, Zuko and Katara were still gazing into each other’s eyes.

No one saw Azula slip away.

* * *

Zuko was drunk on beer and fun. He danced in line to the fast rhythm of the Irish music, holding hands with Katara in front and Suki at the back, until he was dead tired and could barely walk on his own two feet. Soon after, he said it was late and Katara appeared with his jacket. She offered to escort him home with a wink and a “It’s almost midnight, after all!” 

He tried not to show his disappointment. Right. Eventually, it had to end.

By the time the cool ocean air cleared his thoughts, Zuko knew he was gone far too deep. They climbed the staircase leading to the top promenade deck. Katara shivered. Zuko gave her his jacket and when she tried to refuse, he only whispered that it was the least he could do. She smiled that smile, shouldering on his jacket. His heart ached.

He was in love with her and didn’t know what to make of it.

That’s why, holding each other up on their stroll down the deck, he stayed silent until Katara started to sing a tune his lovestruck mind somehow remembered. A good distraction from the feelings plaguing him.

“Two lovers, forbidden from one another…!” They mumbled a bit of the song, then continued: “...mountain divides them apart! Built a path to... be together!”

The big finale was sung with arms spread out and laughter.

“Secret tunnel, secret tunnel, secret tunnel! Yeah!”

She leaned against his arm and Zuko remembered another song. Katara joined him.

“Come Josephine in my flying machine and it’s up, she goes, up, she goes!”

They laughed at the night sky.

Classical music flew into his ear as they reached the First Class entrance. Zuko’s smile died on his face. They stared at each other. Katara cleared her throat and removed his jacket. He took it, wrapping it around his arm. Zuko opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it. He was about to mumble something about going back when she said:

“Do you know what that song means?”

“The one about the flying machine?”

“No, the secret tunnel.”

“Oh! Um. It must have something to do with a tunnel, lovers and a mountain, right?”

“Right.” 

Katara spun around some rigging, facing the sky. Never quite looking at him. Zuko stood next to her, half a step away. Too close yet too far.

“It’s a legend about the first two earthbenders, Oma and Shu. They were lovers on opposite sides of a war between their villages. They loved each other, but they couldn’t be together. So they found each other in a secret tunnel with glowing crystals. Their love was strong and they found a way. Until one day, he didn’t show up.”

“What happened?”

“He was killed in the war. That day she made a huge show of earthbending. She could have destroyed their villages, but instead, she declared the war over. And from their names was born the name of the city Omashu.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“It’s what the legend says, anyway.”

They both looked out at the dark sea, standing there in silence. Zuko was about to ask her why she was bringing this up now when Katara said:

“I found a drawing of the Cave during my travels. It showed their tomb.”

“Really?”

“I can’t forget what was written on the stone.” She looked at him then, eyes catching the light of the moon. “Love is brightest in the dark.”

Zuko found himself at a loss for words. Was she… Was she implying…? 

He looked at her, gaze gliding from her eyes to her mouth and back up again. Katara looked at his lips, too. Then back at his eyes. Zuko’s mouth trembled. He didn’t want this moment to end. And if he did what he wanted to do… if he leaned forward and… and… This moment would end too soon. He spoke without thinking:

“I know a legend, too.”

Katara blinked.

“You do?”

“I do. About the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve read this book about Spirits. Back home. My favourite book. It said that the Blue Spirit was a trickster. A thief. And the Painted Lady was a river spirit. He was feared while she was cherished. Hated and beloved. He brought destruction and chaos, she brought life and order. But they weren’t opposites. They were equals. In all things.”

“Really? I like that.”

“And… and, um…”

He gulped. Zuko wanted to. He so wanted to…

“It’s said that… they were lovers.”

He heard Katara take in a sharp breath. 

“They were?”

“Yeah.”

“And you… and me…”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“What a… coincidence.”

Maybe he wasn’t as sober as he thought. The alcohol in his system made him… bolder. Daring. Brave. Zuko leaned forward. Katara closed her eyes. She leaned forward, too. They were going to meet. In the middle.

At the very last second, he stopped himself. 

“I should go back.”

Her eyes fluttered open. Searching. Questioning. Zuko walked away. 

“Good night, Katara.”

He felt her eyes watching him leave. He barely heard her over the whistling wind when she whispered, in a tone that crushed him on the inside:

“Good night, Zuko.”

There was no sighting of the Blue Spirit or the Painted Lady, that night.

Lovers. Divided apart by a mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, but I didn't want to split it in two because I love the transition between the First Class dinner and the Irish party! :)
> 
> Next week: Aftermath of the party.


	7. Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

* * *

_Though the pressure’s hard to take_

_It’s the only way I can escape_

* * *

Katara was the first one to wake up the next morning.

She stayed in bed a while, looking up at the ceiling. Well, she would have been staring at the ceiling. If she hadn’t been sleeping on the bottom bed. So she stared at the underside of Sokka’s bed instead. Thinking. The only sounds she could hear were Sokka’s snores and the ship groaning and rumbling. Katara heaved a heavy sigh.

She remembered the feeling of Zuko’s breath on her lips.

_“I should go back.”_

Oh, Spirits, what was she _doing?_

This wasn’t allowed. This wasn’t even… appropriate in the slightest. Not that Katara usually cared about that sort of thing. She hadn’t bothered about being appropriate - ever - since she was fourteen. But _Zuko_ cared. Zuko came from this world where nothing mattered more than being poised and graceful and elegant and proper. _Proper_. And here she was, barging into his life, turning it upside down. 

This was all going to end in tears, wasn’t it?

Katara groaned. She grabbed her pillow and buried her face in it. Her voice was muffled when she said to the sleeping room:

“I hope I’m not making a huge mistake.”

After what felt like far too long, Katara rose from her bed. She pulled on her stockings and shoes, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders over her day dress and left her room. The fresh air would clear her mind. She walked along the Third Class deck. Someone she’d seen last night - a man Toph had been armwrestling with - nodded at her. Katara nodded back. She stood at the railing, hands curled together. Down below, the ocean rumbled, pushed and pulled. Pushed and pulled. Like her emotions. Back and forth. 

What they were doing was wrong. But it felt right. But it was wrong. It was so, so wrong. He didn’t belong with her. But she felt like he did. He _should._ But he had a fiancée and he was rich and he spent his dinners drinking champagne and eating caviar. But he hated caviar. And he loved art and he was soft and warm and he’d come last night. He had come. He’d come to a Third Class party. He didn’t care if she was poor. He wasn’t like them. He was like Iroh, but wasn’t Iroh like them, in a way? He wasn’t like Mai, anyway. He was good. He was so, so good.

Katara’s hands toyed with her shawl. What they were doing…

What _had_ they been doing? They’d danced, they’d sparred. A grand total of _one time._ That was it. Nothing more.

But he’d almost… he’d _almost…_

But Zuko hadn’t.

Katara wondered what he was doing up there. Was he already up? Drinking tea or looking out at the water like she was? Was he with his fiancée? Had he already forgotten about her? She’d served her purpose, after being thanked at dinner for saving his life. The party had been… a bonus. An enjoyable bonus! But a bonus nonetheless. So there was no real reason for them to see each other anymore. 

Was there?

“Hey, Katara!”

Katara looked up. Suki arrived with a warm smile. She had… a doll in her hand.

“Have you seen Meng anywhere? Or her aunt, maybe? She forgot her doll last night and I wanted to give it back to her.”

“Nope, haven’t seen any of them. I’ve just woken up.”

“Ooh.” Suki looked over Katara’s shoulder. “Are we going to see a handsome boy with golden eyes walk out of your room? Sokka and those wrestlers probably already know, but I won’t tell anyone else. Promise.”

“What?!” Katara stiffened. “What do you mean?”

Suki arched an eyebrow.

“Katara. Come on.” 

Katara hugged herself. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind on her face.

“There’s nothing… going on with Zuko.” She bit her lip and looked at Suki. “Besides, he’s up there. He’s probably eating breakfast with his fiancée, right now.”

“Oh.”

“He’s… still getting married. You know.”

Katara saw the wheels turning in Suki’s brain.

“Wait, isn’t that the lady you said put handcuffs on your wrists because of that kerfuffle with the propellers… thing? Or something?”

“Yeah, same gal. Mai. And… I haven’t told anyone, but she called me a whore.”

Suki jumped.

“She called you a _what?_!”

“Well, when I pulled Zuko over the railing, I kind of… you know… fell on top of him. Kind of like last night, you know? It was an accident! But then everyone thought…”

“They thought he tried to pull something?”

“No, they thought _I_ tried to pull something.”

Suki’s face flushed with anger. She clenched her hands into fists.

“Give me her room number.”

“Suki! Really, it’s… it’s fine, I don’t…”

“Give me her room number, Katara! Just give it to me. I’m gonna knock some sense into that First Class girl. If you won’t, I’ll do it myself!”

Katara put a hand on Suki’s forearm. As reassuring as she could be.

“No. It’s really not necessary.”

Suki huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re probably right.” 

Something itched at the back of Katara’s mind. Like a memory or… something. There was something… What had she forgotten?

Katara gasped. Her hands flew to her cheeks.

“I almost forgot! I gotta give back that dress. And that corset. And those jewels.”

“Hm, hm!” Suki smiled a sly grin. “Another opportunity to see him, then.” She waved a hand. “Come on, who cares about the fiancée? He didn’t seem to care last night.”

Katara’s face fell. 

“I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? For Kyoshi’s sake, Katara, have you _seen_ the way he looks at you? He’s not fooling anyone. And you’re not fooling anyone either.”

“But he’s… he’s so… and I’m…”

“What? Not good enough?”

“No. Yes. Yes! I’m not…” Katara looked away, at the water. “You should see their world, Suki. I don’t belong there.”

“But he belongs in ours.”

Katara looked up when, this time, Suki put a hand on her arm.

“Katara. Listen to me. Everyone could see it last night. Even Sokka could see it. You guys like each other. All right? There’s no denying it. You balance each other. What you got there, it’s the beginning of something special. And I know… Trust me, I know we haven’t known each other for a very long time, but I say this as a friend. Don’t cut it short because of outside forces. Don’t stop because of them. What do _you_ want to do?”

“I…”

Katara squared her shoulders. 

“I want to find him.”

“Then that’s all you need to know. Go to him.”

“I… thanks, Suki.”

“No problem.”

“I’m gonna help you find Meng, first, though. And get breakfast.”

“Perfect!”

Suki wrapped her arm around Katara’s, pulling her along.

“Let’s go find Meng. Then, we feast. I’m starving!”

* * *

Toph finally escaped from her mother.

No part of her felt bad about going out while she was asleep. Toph couldn’t spare another moment with her anymore. Her father had had a stroke of genius when he’d taken the first ship he could find to New York. At least _he_ could avoid her. Toph walked down the First Class deck, her whole body tense. She’d gotten a dressing-down last night. About getting back to their room late, about being too fragile to get lost around the ship without a chaperone. Toph clenched her teeth. She hated being treated like this pathetic little girl. This little girl who didn’t know any better. Who was nothing but a shell, helpless and broken.

She was ruminating those thoughts when she stopped at the smell of jasmine tea.

“Hello?” asked Toph.

“Oh! Hello.” 

She’d heard that voice before. At lunch, the other day. An old man with an easy laugh.

“You’re Iroh Kai, aren’t you?”

“And you’re Toph Beifong, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather just be Toph, right now.”

“I see…”

She could feel his heart beat. He was hesitant.

“Hold this for me, won’t you? I’ll be right back.”

He thrust a teacup with its saucer in her hands and walked away. Toph turned towards the ocean, hands, teacup and saucer resting against the flat railing. She breathed in. The air was cool, fresh, and the waves gently crashed against the ship. It was delightful, really. Okay, maybe not everything about this trip had been a bad idea. There was the ocean breeze, salt and her new friends. _Friends._

Toph had never had friends before. She could still barely believe it by the time she heard Iroh’s footsteps again. He’d come back to stand next to her. 

“Here is your tea! And I’ll take this one back, thank you.”

Iroh took her teacup and put another one, much warmer, in her hands. He snapped his fingers, warming up his own cup. Toph could feel the heat coming from his hands.

“You’re a firebender.”

“Indeed, I am. And you’re an earthbender.”

Toph huffed. The hair on her forehead stood up and fell back, tickling her skin.

“If it had been up to my mother, I wouldn’t be. She only lets me learn the basics. Over and over and over again. Says I’m too frail for that. It’s never stopped me from learning in secret on my own, though.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “And if you tell her that, I’m going to have to kill you.”

Iroh guffawed. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Having nothing more to say for now, Toph took a sip.

“Wow, that tea’s really good!”

“Thank you. I brew it myself.”

They enjoyed the sounds of the water crashing against the ship. Toph sighed. Her nail made a clinking sound against her teacup.

“I know what you’re thinking. I don’t look like I can handle myself.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Why did you pour me tea, then? I could have done it myself.”

“Well, my teapot was in my room, so I had to fetch it myself. I… imagine you could have come with me. But I think I poured you tea because I wanted to and no other reason.”

“Huh.”

She thought about that.

“People see me and think I'm weak. They want to take care of me, but I can take care of myself, by myself. That’s what I want, anyway.”

“You sound like my nephew, always thinking you need to do things on your own, without anyone's support. There is nothing wrong with letting the people who love you help you. Not that I love you, I just met you.”

Toph laughed. “ _That_ hasn’t stopped _some_ people. So where is Sparky?”

“Sparky?”

“That’s what I call your nephew.”

“Oh! He must be in his room, I suppose. Though waking up late is rather unusual for him. He typically rises with the sun.”

“Oh, trust me, let him be. He had quite a night. Don’t tell anyone, but we were at a party in steerage last night.” She snickered. “He must be exhausted after all that dancing.” 

“My nephew? Dancing? With who?”

“With Miss Katara La.”

“Oh, oh! I see!” Mischief appeared in Iroh’s voice. But it quickly turned soft. Almost nostalgic. “I’m glad she can take him out of his shell. He needs it.”

“Yeah, he’s good to her too. I think they love each other. What a shame.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s him and she’s her. Worlds apart. He’s engaged, too.”

“I’m sure they’ll find a way.”

“I hope so, yeah…”

Toph trailed off. She sipped her tea again. Iroh’s heart beat differently. Teasing.

“And what about you?”

“Hm?”

“I have a feeling there’s someone in your life you can’t be with.”

“Oh! I just met him last night.”

“As you said, matters of the heart can be incredibly sudden. We’ve seen that with my nephew and Miss Katara. It doesn’t mean that they’re meaningless. What do you see in him?”

“He’s… unlike anyone I’ve ever met. He’s light on his feet, he laughs a lot, he doesn’t treat me like I’m fragile. He’s probably more fragile than I am! He’s… He’s a breath of fresh air, really. I think we can be friends. Maybe something else, too.”

“The only way to know for sure is to spend time with him.”

“You think? But my mother…”

“Didn’t you say earlier you just wanted to be Toph, the secret earthbender? And not conform to your mother’s wishes?”

Toph’s mouth hung open. He had her. 

“Touché.”

“Whatever you decide, I hope you know it’s never too late.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kai.” She gave him his emptied teacup back. “It really helped.”

“You’re welcome.”

Iroh squeezed her shoulder and walked away. His footsteps echoed on the floor. Toph smiled. Now she knew what she had to do. 

* * *

Mai hated a lot of things about Zuko, but she especially hated when he was late.

It made her feel forgotten. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be at her beck and call? Had Zuko been a servant at her father’s estate, he would have been fired a long time ago.

Maybe she was a little bit unfair. He’d seemed morose, these past few days. Weeks. Months, even. Mai wasn’t as observant as Azula, but she saw through him anyway. He wasn’t happy. He never looked happy when she was there. He never talked about the weddings unless prompted and looked like he wanted to bolt whenever she hugged him. Mai knew it. But she also knew that she loved Zuko and that mattered more than anything.

Surely he could see that, too. Right?

Mai sipped her tea. She was alone, right now, except for the maid and the waiter. Azula had gone for a walk with Ozai, Iroh was somewhere probably drinking tea and thinking philosophically about life and Zuko was late. Late because of _her._

Mai tried not to think about Katara La. Not this early in the morning. She was going to get an ulcer just thinking about that little…

Mai’s train of thoughts was interrupted.

Zuko walked out on the promenade deck for breakfast. Mai eyed him. Studied him. He looked… _different_. Zuko’s hair was still undone, falling into his eyes. He wore no coat or vest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Two buttons of his white shirt had been left undone, leaving his throat exposed. The black suspenders holding up his black pants contrasted sharply with his shirt. His eyes gleamed. A smile tugged at his lips. Pink blossomed on his cheeks. He looked sloppy, he looked unkempt, he looked… he looked…

He looked _happy._ He looked like he was in love.

Until his eyes found Mai’s. Then, he became muted once more.

Zuko cleared his throat and took his seat at the table. He started drinking his morning tea, mumbling something about having a headache. As if that was an excuse for being late. Mai squinted her eyes. Zuko’s hand shook around his teacup under her scrutinizing stare. 

Good. He deserved it.

“Leave us.”

The waiter and the maid exchanged a glance. They left. When the door closed behind them, she saw Zuko tense. Mai’s eyes never left his face.

“I had hoped you would come to me last night.”

“I was tired.”

Right. _Tired._ Zuko had always been a terrible actor.

“Yes. Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting.”

He stilled. As if trying to hide it, Zuko took a sip of his own tea.

“I see you had Azula follow me. I should have known.”

“Oh, it wasn’t me, it was your father. But let’s just say, I agreed.” He looked down and she gritted her teeth. “Zuko, you will never behave like that again. Understood?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. Zuko looked up.

“I'm not a foreman in your father’s mills that you can command! I am your fiancé.”

“My fiancé? My…”

Mai jumped up, anger she had been suppressing for months exploding in her. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t he smile when she walked into the room? Why couldn’t he look at her like she was his whole world? Why couldn’t he look at her the way he looked at that peasant girl? 

Why couldn’t he _love her?_

Mai grabbed the table. She flipped it over. Plates and glasses smashed against the ground. Shattered. Zuko gasped, the sound cracking in his throat. Mai put herself in Zuko’s face, leaning over him. Her hands gripped his arms, resting on his chair. Zuko whimpered. She towered over him, feeling more powerful than ever. She was used to Ty Lee looking at Azula in fear. It felt good when it was directed at her. When there was fear in his eyes. 

Mai Agni commanded respect.

“My fiancé. Yes, you are! And my husband… in practice, if not yet by law.” Her voice came out in angry whispers. “So you will honor me, as a husband is required to honor his wife. I will not be made out a fool! Is this in any way unclear?”

Zuko shook his head from left to right. His whole body trembled. Mai wasn’t quite satisfied. She grabbed a butter knife from the floor. She lifted it up to his scarred eye, fist wrapped around the handle. Zuko’s chest heaved with quick, sudden breaths. She could smell the fear on him. His face was reflected in the knife’s metal. Mai looked him in the eyes. They were wide open. Wide with fear. He looked at the knife. At her. Back at the knife.

Pitiful.

“Do you think I don’t see it?” Her voice was the only sound heard in the empty room, echoing on the walls of the luxurious promenade deck. “Do you think I don’t see the way you look at her? Is it because she’s a bender? Because she saved you? Because you feel like you owe her anything? I’ve given you everything! I bought you your paintings, your necklace, your… all you could wish for! So what is it? What does she have that I don’t? Answer me!”

“I don’t…!”

He never finished the sentence. His jaw clicked shut. She heard it anyway.

_I don’t love you._

There it was. Out in the open. 

With a huff, Mai threw the knife over Zuko’s shoulder. Its blade sank into the wall, at a ninety degrees angle. Mai straightened, sending a glance down at the shattered crockery and overturned table. Her hands clasped together, she looked at Zuko. Deep into his eyes.

“Look at the mess you’ve made.”

With that, she walked away. 

She heard Zuko gasp and fall to the floor. Mai couldn’t care less. Still, standing by the door she pulled open, Mai took one look back at him. 

“I-I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled as a maid appeared to come and help. “I’m so sorry! We had a little accident. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, Master Zuko. It’s all right.”

He shrunk in on himself and his hand covered his mouth. 

Mai left.

* * *

Ozai felt… _disgruntled._

Last night, Azula had come to him with a smile on her face. She had looked ecstatic when she’d told him where Zuko was and with who he was. Ozai had laughed last night. His eldest son! With a steerage girl! Now that he was in the morning sun though, Ozai realized the matter at hand wasn’t amusing at all. His daughter was cruel, cold-hearted, and that’s what he’d wanted from Zuko. He wanted the perfect son, the perfect soldier, a servant who followed every rule. But Zuko had failed before. And that La girl was a threat Ozai needed to get rid of. She’d ruin all his plans.

He hadn’t lied about Ursa’s “debts” - which were his - for nothing. 

Ozai found Zuko standing in his room in front of his mirror. He was tying up his hair in a proper topknot. Zuko froze when he saw Ozai’s reflection in the mirror. Their eyes met. Ozai clicked the door shut and locked it. He crossed the room to stand right behind his son. Zuko looked like he wanted to run but didn’t know how. 

He looked like a mouse in a trap. 

Pathetic.

“You are not to see that girl again, do you understand me, Zuko? I forbid it.”

“Oh, stop it, Father.” He finished tying his hair. “You’ll give yourself a nosebleed.”

Ozai grabbed Zuko’s arms and spun him around to look him dead in the eye. His eyes were rimmed with red. He looked like he was about to cry. Zuko shook under his hands.

Good. 

Ozai whispered in his face:

“Zuko, this is not a game! Our situation is precarious. You know the money’s gone!”

“Of course I know it’s gone. You remind me every day.”

“Your mother left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. And that name is the only card we have left to play.”

It was so easy to lie about a dead woman. Laughably easy.

“I don't understand you. It is a fine match with Agni, and it will insure our survival.”

“How can you put this on my shoulders?”

“Do you want to see me working as a stable boy? Or a footman? Is that what you want? Do you want to see our fine things sold at an auction, our memories scattered to the winds? Spirits, Zuko, how can you be so selfish?”

“I’m being selfish?”

Ozai squinted his eyes. It was time Zuko remembered his place. 

“You dare speak back at me?”

Zuko swallowed. Ozai let go of his arms. He took a step back and pointed at the floor.

“Kneel.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You. Heard. Me.”

Zuko dropped in a kowtow on the carpet. At Ozai’s feet. He looked small. Harmless. Weak. He looked like he was that thirteen-year-old boy again. In many ways, he was. 

“Do you remember what happened the last time you disrespected me?”

Zuko stiffened. “I’m sorry, Father.” His voice shook. He kept his head bowed. “I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son.”

Ozai crouched to the ground. He grabbed Zuko’s hair and lifted his head up. Zuko whimpered. He’d been taught suffering would be his teacher a long time ago. But sometimes, he needed to be reminded. Just in case.

“Now you listen to me! What do you think is going to happen with that girl? Hm? Do you think that… that she’s… that she’s the love of your life? That she’s going to grow old with you and you’ll have a bunch of kids together and you’ll be happy, forever and ever? She’s going to leave with your money the second she has the chance! She’s going to leave you penniless and after that... What will you do? You’ll come crawling back home.”

“I…”

“You have everything you could ever want, Zuko.” Ozai talked in his most honeyed voice. “Your family. Your way of life. A good match to your future wife. You’re going to throw all that away for a… for a little peasant girl? You met her two days ago!” 

When Zuko didn’t say anything, Ozai tutted.

“Zuko, Zuko, Zuko. Why would she ever like you? For your good looks? Your pretty face? Your _personality_? You know what she wants. If you don’t, you’re naïve. Forget her. It’s for the best. For you and for all of us.”

Zuko closed his eyes. Ozai smiled. He knew he’d won.

“It’s so unfair.”

“Of course it’s unfair. We’re rich. Our choices are never easy.”

Ozai dropped Zuko’s head. Without looking back, he left.

* * *

Katara knocked at Uncle Iroh’s door and was answered… by a maid. A maid who was also holding a bowl of cherries. For whatever reason.

“Yes?” The maid blinked at Katara. “May I help you?”

“Hi! Um, I borrowed this dress from Iroh… Mr. Kai... last night and…”

“Oh!” The maid took the carefully wrapped package with a smile, quite the balancing act since she was also holding the bowl of cherries. “Yes, yes, I’ll take it and have it cleaned before Master Iroh - and the rest of Master Iroh’s family - comes back.”

Katara breathed out in relief. “Thank you.”

“And…”

The maid looked around, as if wondering if anyone was listening.

“I have it in good authority that young Master Zuko quite enjoyed his soirée last night. He came back tired and exhausted, but he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. And trust me. We barely see him smile anymore.”

“Oh! I, um… that’s good.”

The maid winked. “Have a good day, Miss Katara.”

With that, the maid closed the door.

Katara searched the First Class deck. It was oddly empty. Where was everybody? That’s when she remembered. Today was Sunday. Ah.

Katara walked away.

Some people stared. Katara tried not to blush, wringing her hands together. She stood out like a sore thumb, in her cheap dress and her shawl. Still, Katara walked forward. She’d come all this way here; she wasn’t about to let herself be deterred. Katara found her way to the First Class dining salon, where many people were gathered behind a door. The divine service, then. On her way down the staircase, she was met by Mr. Andrews, who gave her a “good morning, Katara,” before walking off to wherever he was headed. Katara reached the doors to the salon and was stopped by two stewards at the door.

“Oh! Hello.”

“Look, Miss,” said one of the stewards, firm but not unkind. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I was just here, last night. Don’t you remember?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

That’s when… Azula walked through the dining salon’s doors. Katara felt her stomach turn to ice at the sight of that smile. It was sharp like a knife in the back.

“She’ll tell you,” tried Katara. “I was here last night. Remember?”

Her shriver of hope was squashed when Azula arched an eyebrow.

“My brother and Mai continue to be most appreciative of your assistance. They asked me to give you this in gratitude…” 

Two twenty dollar bills stood between her fingers. Azula’s smile became a smirk. 

She was enjoying this. 

Katara looked over Azula’s shoulder. She found Zuko, standing just on the other side of the glass, amongst the crowd. His beautiful face looked peaceful, though Katara had a feeling he was hiding something. There was something behind those eyes…

Pain, perhaps?

“Look,” Katara said with her stomach in a knot, turning back to Azula. “I don’t want your money. I just want to speak to Zuko. I…”

“It’s _Mr. Kai_ to you. And this is also to remind you that you hold a Third Class ticket and your presence here is no longer appropriate.”

Katara wanted to cry. She wouldn’t give Azula this pleasure.

“Please,” she tried again. “Can I just talk to Mr. Kai? For just a second?”

“Gentlemen?” Azula shared the bills between the two stewards. “Please see that Miss La goes back where she belongs. And that she stays there.”

They led her away. One of them tried to take Katara’s arm but she shoved him aside. She sent one last hateful glance at Azula over her shoulder. Azula waved a mocking goodbye.

Katara arrived in the Third Class general room where people chatted, played and laughed. She found Sokka quickly, eyes zeroing-in on a familiar wolf tail. When she made her way to him, that’s when she saw he wasn’t alone. Not that Sokka was ever really alone. He was sitting there with Suki, Aang, Appa, Momo, Jet and… Toph?

“What are _you_ still doing here?” asked Katara.

She hadn’t meant to snap. But she did anyway.

“Ooooh, something’s going on, Sugar Queen,” said Toph, serious for once.

“Yeah, what’s the matter?” asked Sokka. He rose up and put a hand on her shoulder. Reassuring. Her rock, as always. “Katara?”

She told them everything.

“I warned you.” Jet shrugged. “To you, he can seem like a Spirit amongst mortals, sure. But he's in another world, Tara. Forget him. He's closed the door on you.”

“No.” Katara pulled off her shawl and shoved it in Sokka’s hands. She started to pace again, hands clasped behind her back. “It wasn’t him. It was them.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Suki hit Jet with her elbow.

“Right! Uh, hey, Tara. I wanted to say. I’m sorry. About the way I’ve been acting around you. I haven’t been nice. And I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. But I still don’t think of you in that way.” 

“No problem. You know what? I’m glad. You scare me too much.”

Katara paced. She paced and she paced and she paced. People were starting to stare by now, but she didn’t stop to care. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She’d seen it in his eyes. It wasn’t him. It was them. She was certain of it. 

“Katara?” 

She stopped her pacing and looked over her shoulder at Suki.

“Yeah?”

“What did I ask you this morning? What do _you_ want to do?”

Katara looked at all her friends. She squared her shoulders.

“I need your help.”

Sokka’s strong arms, Suki’s strong arms, Aang’s airbending, Toph’s encouragement and Jet’s snide remarks helped Katara get to the First Class deck. Okay, maybe Jet’s comments didn’t help at all. But she still made it there. Katara took a lady’s jacket and a hat from a bench and made her way down the deck. 

She was going to find him. She had to.

* * *

Zuko hid it well. He’d had a lot of practice in the matter.

He followed after Father as if nothing had happened. As if his whole world, as if his hopes and dreams and new love hadn’t been shattered like glass on the floor. He half-listened to Mr. Andrews explaining everything about his wonderful ship. Something caught Zuko’s eye as they walked down the deck with the lifeboats, though.

“Mr. Andrews, I did the sum in my head, and with the number of lifeboats times the capacity you mentioned…” Zuko scratched his cheek. Mr. Andrews waited for him to continue.“Forgive me, but it seems that there are not enough for everyone aboard.”

Mr. Andrews looked genuinely pained at that.

“About half, actually. Zuko, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I put in these new type davits, which can take an extra row of boats here.” He gestured at the deck. “But it was thought... by some... that the deck would look too cluttered. So I was overruled.”

Azula slapped the side of a lifeboat. Zuko sniffed.

“Waste of deck space as it is, on an unsinkable ship!”

Zuko was surprised when a firm hand was put on his shoulder. He looked up. Mr. Andrews was looking back at him.

“Sleep soundly, young Zuko.” He said that with certainty. “I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She’s all the lifeboat you need.” 

Zuko wasn’t so sure about that. He let the others walk past him. His mind was working a mile a minute. Not enough lifeboats for everyone? Who had taken such a decision? Was it Ismay? Someone else, perhaps? Who could allow such a thing?

Zuko pushed aside his justified anger. He was about to follow when a hand, gentler than Mr. Andrews’, grabbed his shoulder. He almost jumped when he turned and saw her. Katara. She was there! She was here! At first, he was overwhelmed with joy. But then he remembered Father and Mai. And then he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

Zuko allowed her to drag him into the gymnasium.

“Katara, this is impossible,” he said as she closed the door. “I can’t see you.”

At first he stood in the middle of the room. But as Katara walked around him to face him, Zuko found himself retreating, his back against the wall. He wasn’t scared. Not of her. Never of her. But he was scared of himself. What if he wasn’t strong enough to…?

Katara stood opposite him, maybe a foot away. There was only strength and determination he could see reflected in her eyes, almost glowing in the light pouring in from the windows. Zuko bit back a smile. All he wanted to do right now was jump in her arms, spin her around, maybe even… maybe even _kiss_ her. He wanted to do that with every fiber of his being. But if he disobeyed... The last time he’d disrespected Father...

Katara looked him in the eye. So close. Too close.

“I need to talk to you.”

“No, Katara. No. I’m engaged. I’m marrying Mai. I love Mai.”

His confession rang hollow to his own ears.

As expected, Katara was having none of it. She smiled, one eyebrow quirked. 

“Zuko, you're no picnic. All right?” Her eyes gleamed with mirth. “You're a... spoiled little brat even.” Then she became serious once more. “But under that you're a strong, pure heart, and you're the most amazingly astounding guy… man... that I've ever known.” 

She took a pause as she was pouring her heart out. 

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it...

“And…”

“I…”

Zuko tried to pull away. He really did. He tried to step around her and walked until his back was turned to the ripple-glass window. She stepped in his way. 

“No, no! Let me try to get this out. You're amaz…” Katara stopped. Her hands waved uselessly in front of her. She breathed out. Tried again. “I’m not ignorant. I know how the world works. I have ten bucks in my pocket, I have nothing to offer you. And I know that. I understand.” She walked a step closer. Zuko looked down at her lips, then up at her eyes again. “But I'm involved now. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowing that you're going to be all right. That’s all that I want.”

“Well, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Really.”

“Really? I don’t think so.”

She was close, so close. All Zuko wanted to do was wrap his arms around her, say he was sorry, plead with her. Tell her he loved her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Katara pointed at a spot on the wall, on her right and his left.

“They’ve got you trapped, Zuko. And you’re gonna die if you don’t break out. Maybe not right away because… because you’re strong, but…”

Katara reached forward. Her trembling hand cupped his cheek, fingers touching his scar. Zuko’s heart skipped a beat. He took in a sharp, shaky breath. No one had ever wanted to touch it. No one. Yet _she_ was. She’d never looked at it with disgust or pity or shame. She’d seen it as a part of him. As who he was. Her thumb stroked his cheek.

“But sooner or later, that fire that I love about you is gonna burn out.”

He couldn’t resist. He didn’t say it as a joke, it was just the first thing that came to mind. The first thing that stopped him from throwing caution to the wind and kissing her.

“I’m a firebender. My fire can’t burn out.”

“I’m not talking about that one. And you know it.”

He did. Oh, he knew it very well.

“It’s not up to you to save me, Katara.”

“You’re right. Only you can do that.”

She walked one step forward again. Their noses were almost touching. Close. So close. Zuko looked at her lips. He closed his eyes. Then, his hand rested over Katara’s, on his scarred cheek. He opened his eyes again, not quite looking into hers.

“I’m going back. Leave me alone.”

* * *

Katara watched him go. Her heart shattered as he closed the door behind him.

She saw Zuko through the ripple-glass window. A shadow. Then nothing.

Her hand grazed the cool glass. She dropped her head.

It was over. Wasn’t it?

* * *

Zuko practically ran back to his room. All he wanted to do was drop to the floor and bawl his eyes out. Somehow, he made it to his room without any such incidents. He slammed the door behind him. At first, he hoped nobody would be there. He flinched when he heard someone clink their spoon in a teacup. But then… he looked.

It was Uncle. And no one else.

“Ah, nephew.” Uncle offered him his best sunshine smile. “I was just wondering! Have you seen Miss Beifong anywhere? We had a chat this morning around a cup of tea and I think she found companionship with a young man in steerage. She…”

He trailed off. Uncle’s voice was full of concern when he said: 

“Zuko?”

Zuko _cracked_. 

He dropped to the floor, jaw clenched. Salt burned at his eyes until he couldn’t see anything anymore. Tears ran down his cheeks. He sobbed, body rocked with heavy hiccups. His hands clawed at his hair, ripping apart his top knot. He yanked his hair free without really thinking about it. His headpiece clattered somewhere on the floor. Zuko tried to breathe. He couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe..._

“Zuko!”

“I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it…”

A strong pair of arms was wrapped around him. Uncle whispered nonsense in his ear, rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades with one hand. Zuko cried into his shoulder, ugly sobs that hurt everywhere. Zuko clutched the fabric of Uncle’s shirt. 

“Remember your training, Zuko. Firebending comes from the breath.”

He breathed in. Breathed out. Breathed in. Breathed out. Again. And again. And again.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” he finally whispered, voice raspier than usual.

“What are you sorry for, son?”

Zuko pulled away from Uncle. They stayed there on the floor, within arm’s reach. Just a hug away. At first, Zuko wondered if he should lie and hide the truth. But then he remembered Azula always lied and he didn’t want to be Azula. He wanted to be himself. Not anyone else. He wanted to be Zuko. Just Zuko.

“I can’t marry Mai. I love Katara.”

“Oh, Zuko…”

He found himself pulled into another hug.

“That’s all right, son. That’s so, so, so all right. That’s _good_.” 

Uncle rubbed more circles between Zuko’s shoulder blades. Uncle’s breath was warm and comforting. He smelled of home and tea. Uncle seemed hesitant when he said:

“Zuko… I’m sorry to say but, I asked Katara to tell me what happened the other night and she told me. She told me you…”

“She told you I tried to jump?” 

Zuko sniffed. He was going to be so angry...

“I… I’m sorry, I…!”

“Don’t be sorry! I’m only thankful Katara was there to save you in time. I should have been there. I should have! But I wasn’t and she was there. She’s so good to you, Zuko. I’m not angry. I’m only glad she found you. I’m glad you found _each other_.” Uncle took in another deep breath. He hugged Zuko tighter. “And don’t worry. I’ll talk to your father and Mai and we’ll cancel the betrothal. It’s gonna be…”

“No!”

It hadn’t been an outburst. Not quite. Zuko could barely talk as it was. But as Zuko pushed himself away, forcefully this time, Uncle stopped talking and, instead, listened.

“No, it won’t be fine.” 

Zuko remembered the flipped table, the butter knife, the kowtow and the hand pulling his head up. He also remembered Azula’s satisfied smirk when she’d come back to the dining salon. Something had happened to make her smile like that. And he had a feeling that something had to do with Katara. Zuko swallowed, throat still aching. 

“It’s what’s been chosen for me. I don’t have a say in this. And… Father, Azula, Mai… they won’t let go of this betrothal. It’s our last chance from being destitute. We’ve run out of money! Father, Azula… Mother’s debts… They won’t let go that easily.”

“They’ll put up a fight. That is true.” 

“See? I’m trapped. And I can’t tell them no.”

Uncle seemed to think, then. For a long moment. He stroked his beard pensively. Then, as if resolute, he put his hands on Zuko’s shoulders.

“Zuko, do you remember what I told you the day we left Southampton?”

It took Zuko a moment too long to vaguely remember...

“Something about destiny?”

Uncle smiled. 

“Yes, something about destiny. What I specifically told you is that you never know how things are going to work out. But if you keep an open mind and an open heart, I promise you will find your _own_ destiny someday.”

He put his hand over Zuko’s heart, on his chest.

“I also told you only you can decide who you are and who you want to be.”

Zuko swallowed. Thickly.

“That’s true.”

“So, Zuko. I’m going to ask you again. Who are _you_ and what do _you_ want?”

Zuko thought. He thought and he thought and he thought. Uncle gave him a cup of tea and he drank. Jasmine. Of course. The liquid ran down his throat, warm and comforting. Like Uncle. Zuko finished his cup and wiped away the tears from his eyes. He straightened his back. His mind felt clearer than it had been in months, maybe years even. 

Who was he? He knew the answer, now.

“I’m the boy who feels trapped by his stifling life. I’m the boy stuck in a betrothal I only agreed to for money. I’m… I’m the boy who doesn’t love his fiancée. I’m the boy who loves art. I want to be an artist, maybe an actor. I’m the boy with the scar. It’s a part of me, it doesn’t define me. I’m the boy who does ballet, who can fight with dao swords, who firebends. I’m the boy who should cherish every moment he shares with his Uncle, but doesn’t always. I’m the boy who’s soft and fragile and strong and stubborn. I’m…” 

Zuko took in a breath. He was going to say it. 

“I’m the boy who melts when he’s looking into a certain waterbender’s eyes. I’m the boy who’s fallen head first in love with Katara. And…” Zuko looked at his hands folded around his teacup on his lap. “And I’m the boy who ruined everything because I told her to leave me alone and she won’t want to have anything to do with me anymore.”

A hand squeezed his shoulder. Gentle. Kind. Zuko looked up. Into Uncle’s eyes.

“What did I also say that day? Destiny is a funny thing, Zuko.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sure if you go back to her… you’ll be surprised by her reaction.”

Uncle took back the teacup and set it down on the floor next to them. He looked at Zuko with warm pride and squeezed his shoulder once more. 

“So. Now that we know who you are. What do _you_ want, Zuko?”

Zuko cracked a smile.

“I want to find her.”

Uncle retracted his hand from Zuko’s shoulder. He lifted his arms up.

“Then go! For the love of all Spirits, go! And don’t look back.”

Zuko got to his feet. He took in a deep, deep breath. He was ready. _He was ready._ He trotted back the few steps he’d managed to make through the room earlier to the door. Zuko stopped, his hand on the doorknob, when Uncle added:

“And trust me that I will always love you.”

He turned to Uncle Iroh. Zuko nodded, a small smile on his face. 

“I love you too.”

With that, Zuko ran out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Remember when I said last chapter was long? Hahahahahaha... ha... (No, seriously, this fic is getting long. So buckle up, people!)
> 
> Okay. I know Mai's behaviour might be controversial. But really, I only took her character traits from the show and the comics and cranked them up to eleven. My reasoning: what would a Mai without a war as an outlet for her emotions be like? So here's what I got. Sorry to any Mai fans reading this. 
> 
> And um. Whoever decided to put Young Leonardo DiCaprio in front of a window so his eyes reflect the light like that? Thank you. 
> 
> Also! Zuko's speech to Iroh at the end may or may not have been inspired by Moana's "I am Moana/Song of the Ancestors". If you somehow haven't given it a listen... please do. It's amazing.
> 
> Next week: Flying, a drawing and a car...


	8. Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

* * *

_It seems a heavy choice to make_

_And now I am under, oh_

* * *

Zuko chose her. He was choosing her.

But first, he had to find Katara.

Zuko’s instinct told him to go to the Third Class general room. To get there, though, he’d have to walk the entire length of the First Class promenade deck. He stopped every few steps, shooting glances behind him. Just to see if anyone was paying him any attention. Was Azula there, hiding in the shadows? Was that Mai, under that wide-brimmed hat?

When Zuko felt assured he wasn’t being watched, he trotted down the length of the deck. Maybe slower than he’d hoped, but as fast as he could while remaining inconspicuous.

Zuko retraced his steps back to the Third Class general room. Down the staircase. Down that hallway and that hallway… and now here he was, at the top of that staircase again. Had it only been a few days since he’d been here looking for her? When he’d been rooted to the spot, standing here, gathering his wits? It felt like a lifetime ago already. 

And now he was here to tell Katara he loved her. 

He’d be saying it in front of everyone. Zuko didn’t care.

But when he arrived, she wasn’t there. 

* * *

Katara should have known.

She should have known. She should have known, she should have known, she should have known. What had she been _thinking_? She was free to do whatever she wanted - as much as a woman was free to do whatever she wanted in this world - but Zuko wasn’t. He’d chosen his fiancée. He’d chosen his world and his people in it. And she shouldn’t fault him for that. He was loyal as could be. But still… he wasn’t happy. He’d chosen misery.

Katara fought back tears. She didn’t know how long she stayed in the lonely gymnasium. Rooted to the spot. Feeling sorry for herself. It wasn’t only because Zuko hadn’t chosen her. She was heartbroken that he’d chosen a life she knew would only stifle him. 

They were going to snuff his fire out.

As she closed the door to the gymnasium behind her, Katara became aware that some amount of time had passed. The sky would be set on fire soon - at that, she tried not to think about a certain firebender - and she hoped she’d get a great view of the sunset.

Wait… that gave her an idea.

Katara made her way to the bow of the ship. She kept her head low, in case anyone - from the stewards to, worse, Azula - recognized her. She dropped the lady’s hat on a chair on her way and figured she’d keep the coat for just a few minutes more. It _was_ chilly out, after all. Katara walked down the stairs to the lower decks. She’d been certain the bow of the ship would be… free of people. But Katara stopped when she saw _two_ people there.

“Oh! Meng. Aunt Wu.”

They both turned towards her. Meng was hoisted up in Aunt Wu’s arms. Meng’s whole face cracked into a smile at the sight of Katara.

“Hi, Katara! Come, come, look at all this water!”

Katara forced a smile. She walked to stand near the very tip of the bow, by the railing next to Aunt Wu. Katara’s hands curled on the railing, clasped together. While she tried to look strong for Meng’s sake, she could see Aunt Wu’s eyes studying her. Katara wasn’t fooling her. Aunt Wu took in a deep breath.

“Something happened. Hasn’t it?”

Katara could only nod. Aunt Wu looked out upon the water.

“Do you remember what I told you, when I read your fortune?”

Katara leaned on her elbows, cheeks cupped in her hands.

“You asked me how my hands could be so smooth.”

Meng laughed at the sky. Aunt Wu chuckled.

“No, no, no! I wasn’t talking about that. I meant what I read on the palms of your hands. About the man you’re going to marry.”

“I don’t exactly want to know who that is, right now.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Not really.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. Because I never really had the chance to finish when your brother so rudely interrupted me. I don’t know much about him, unfortunately. But what I _do_ know about him is that… he’s a very powerful bender.”

Katara arched an eyebrow, looking at Aunt Wu from the corner of her eyes.

“A very powerful bender? That’s it?”

“Hm, hm, yes. That’s it.”

Katara pouted. If she was acting like a child, she really didn’t care. “That doesn’t make me feel any better. Destiny isn’t really on my side, right now.”

“Oh, Katara.” Aunt Wu rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let me tell you, from fortune teller to friend. Destiny isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It has a habit of bringing people together, of course. But sometimes, it’s brought along by the choices we make. Give it some time. Or give it a gentle nudge in the right direction. And you’ll see.”

“I tried. He chose his life. And I don’t belong in it.”

Aunt Wu smiled.

“Maybe he’s the one who needs that nudge in the right direction. Give _him_ time. I’m sure it’ll turn out all right. And if it doesn’t, well. At least you can’t say you haven’t tried.”

With that, Aunt Wu started to walk away, with Meng still in her arms.

“Oh! And before I forget.”

Katara turned around. Aunt Wu’s smile was wide on her face.

“I wanted to thank you. For that medicine.”

“What medicine? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aunt Wu winked at Katara and, as Meng waved goodbye, left. 

Katara took a deep breath. She moved to stand at the very tip of the bow. Katara pulled at her updo and let her hair fly behind her. Her hair loopies swung in the wind. She looked out upon the open water. Endless. Grand. Lonely.

_At least you can’t say you haven’t tried._

Katara hoped Aunt Wu was right.

* * *

Sokka sat on a bench, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world when he held Suki’s hand in his. He looked up when he heard someone running down the stairs leading to the Third Class general room. That’s when he saw him walk in. Zuko jogged past the crowd, careful not to push anyone along the way. Silence fell upon them all, but it wasn’t curious or judgemental. It was a concerned silence. Sokka, Aang, Toph, Suki and Jet looked up at Zuko in confusion. Well. Maybe except Toph. Though she looked unsettled too. Some of them shared the same glances when he reached them.

“Have you seen Katara?”

Sokka rose to his feet. “No, why? Did something happen to her?”

“No, I… I want to tell her… I… I...”

Zuko looked down. Sokka knew that look on his face. 

Oh.

_Oh._

Toph was as direct as always. “Spit it out, Sparky!” 

“I love her, all right! I haven’t stopped thinking about her for the past few days. And it’s… it’s so strange because it’s so sudden but I can feel it, you know? I love her so much and I hope she doesn’t turn me away and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her and…”

“Zuko!”

Sokka put his hand on his shoulder. Zuko gaped at him. 

“What?”

“Go to her.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Go to her. Go to my sister.” He was sure of it when he added: “I trust you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” said Jet. He rose to his feet. “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me last night and you know what? You were right. I apologized to her and I wanted to apologize to you, too. And by the way, you and Katara deserve each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m saying that in the nicest way possible.”

“They’re right!” Aang jumped up, pulling Toph along with him. Appa groaned and Momo chatted, at his feet. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be here if you need us.”

“They’re right, you know,” said Suki, rising to her feet last. “I see it on your face.”

“Come on, Sparky,” finally said Toph. “ _I’m_ the blind one and I can see you love her. I’m probably the first one who figured it out! Now go find her!”

Zuko started to walk away. People clapped. Sokka joined them, then the others did, and soon, everyone was clapping. Some whooped. Others shouted their support. By the time Zuko was climbing the staircase out of the general room, a chorus of “go to her, son!” and “don’t even look back, boy, just walk until you find her!” followed after him. 

A brilliant idea - if he could say so himself - popped in Sokka’s mind.

“Hey! Zuko!”

Zuko turned around, halfway up the staircase.

“What?”

“You might want to look at the bow of the ship.”

Zuko nodded. “Thanks!” And with that, he disappeared. 

Sokka smiled. He sank back down on the bench and wrapped an arm around Suki. He knew Katara was in good hands. And if, somehow, he had misjudged Zuko, and he _never_ misjudged anyone, she’d kick his ass easily.

* * *

She was there.

Zuko stopped. Awed. All he could see of her was her back turned to him. It was enough. Everything about Katara was _enough_. 

Her hair, freed from its updo, flew in the wind. Down on one knee, she was hunched in on herself, torso pressed against her arms and head bowed. She was a dark silhouette, a sharp contrast against the sunlit sky. The clouds were on fire around her, oranges and pinks and purples melting together. Water - of a deep, rich purple and highlighted in orange - rumbled under her as the ship broke through the ocean’s surface. Katara didn’t move. She didn’t say anything. She only listened. 

Zuko walked closer. Feet moving on their own. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and his knees shook. He searched for the right words. Zuko found them.

“Hello, Katara.”

Simple, really. Just a hello. But at that, she spun around. Katara blinked. Once. Twice. She looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he was there, as if if she blinked too hard, he’d vanish. Mouth slightly agape, eyes wide. Zuko smiled.

“I changed my mind.”

Katara grinned. Her smile reached her blue eyes, making them sparkle. He would cherish that smile for the rest of his life, he was sure. Zuko walked closer. His long coat quivered in the wind. He looked around, searching for more words to say. When he tried to mention he’d seen her brother and friends, Katara put a finger to her lips. 

“Shhh. Come here. Give me your hand.”

He took her hand. Without hesitation, without fear. Katara pulled him closer until they were standing less than an arm away. Her hand - warm, yet cool at the same time - rested on his wrist. Could she feel his shivering nerves? Could she feel his heart racing?

“Now close your eyes.”

Zuko’s smile spread further on his lips. Still, he looked at her. Quizzical.

“Go on!” insisted Katara. “Please.”

Zuko closed his eyes. One hand still firmly holding his wrist, Katara moved aside. Her other hand touched the small of his back. She brought him forward, against the railing. 

“Step up,” said her voice, not authoritative, but a blend of seriousness and laughter.

At first, he didn’t. But then he put one foot up. And then the other. His hands rested against the railing, steadying him. For a moment, there was nothing but the salty breeze on his face. Then Katara was there, standing right behind him, keeping him from falling. 

“Hold on to the railing. Like that, yeah. And don’t peek.”

“I’m not.”

Zuko kept his eyes closed, feeling the fresh air on his face. His smile showed all his teeth. Her body pressed flush against him. Strong. Steady. Zuko shivered. This wasn’t a bad feeling. Katara was warm upon his back. She leaned over his shoulder, chin resting on him.

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

Katara wrapped her hands around his wrists. She extended his arms on either side of him. Zuko felt his smile grow even wider. If that was even possible. Her hands moved to rest on either side of his waist. Zuko swallowed. Katara’s breath tickled his neck when she whispered in his ear, lips almost touching his jaw:

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

He did. Zuko gasped. If he had any tears left to shed, they would have fallen right then and there. Nothing had prepared him for the moment he would look out upon the open ocean, with nothing but water and sky, as the sun melted in the waves. Everything was a wash of red and blue, oranges and pinks, purples and lilacs. There was nothing else but the night and day meeting each other.

“I’m flying, Katara!”

Katara’s arms wrapped around his torso, with her hands resting on his stomach. She smiled into him. Zuko kept his eyes glued to the horizon. The sky turned an even deeper shade of orange as they reached dusk. Then Katara’s hands intertwined with his, cool and soft and secure. Katara leaned her chin against his shoulder. Her voice was soft in his ear.

“Come Josephine in my flying machine, and it’s up she goes, up she goes…”

“Not the secret tunnel song?”

Katara chuckled. “No, not that one. But do you remember Oma and Shu?”

“How could I forget?”

Zuko could feel Katara’s nose nudging his jawline. Not quite tall enough to reach his cheek. Katara brought their arms closer to their bodies. Close. She was so close. No. She wasn’t close. She was there. _Completely_ there. For once, Zuko didn’t feel like pulling away. This was where he belonged. Where he wanted to be. He looked at her. Their noses touched.

“Can _Titanic_ be our secret cave?” he whispered, voice almost swallowed by the wind.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Yeah. I want to find a way.”

Zuko leaned forward. Katara leaned forward, too. He closed his eyes. Zuko held his breath. He’d been hoping for this moment for so long, for what felt like a lifetime… 

Their lips met halfway. She kissed him and he kissed her. Standing there, at the very front of the ship, with nothing but the ocean and the setting sun as their witnesses. Kissing Katara was soft, it was sweet, it was deep and wonderful. She tasted of adventure, of life and joy. Zuko felt like he was breathing in after being underwater too long. When he leaned against her she followed, and when she leaned against him he did the same. Zuko’s fingers tangled in her hair, at the nape of her neck. Katara’s hand reached up to his face and caressed his cheek, fingers running against his scar. She smiled into him.

Kissing Katara was all he hoped it would be and more. Kissing Katara was perfect.

* * *

Katara looked at the bow of the ship through the television screen. Where everything was orange and pink and brand new in her memory, now _Titanic_ stood at the bottom of the Atlantic, in gloomy blues and greens. Katara looked away, back to the crew of treasure hunters and Korra, sitting there in front of her. She managed a smile.

“This was the last time _Titanic_ saw daylight.”

Asami’s dreamy, romantic expression turned sour. 

“So we’re up to dusk on the night of the sinking. Six hours to go.”

“Don't you love it?” Mako barked a humorless laugh. “There's Smith, he’s standing there with the iceberg warning in his fucking hand…” He lifted a finger. “... Excuse me... in his hand, and he’s ordering more speed.”

“Twenty-six years of experience working against him,” said Bolin. 

“He figures anything big enough to sink the ship will be seen in time to turn,” continued Asami. “But the ship’s too big, with too small a rudder... it can’t corner worth shit. Everything he knows is wrong.”

Katara looked down at Zuko’s headpiece in her old hands. 

She couldn’t wait to get to the next part.

* * *

Katara’s heart pounded as she stepped in Zuko’s room. They’d sneaked from the bow of the ship to Katara’s room - to get her art supplies - and then had sneaked back here. His uncle was gone and there was no one else at this hour. They were probably all at dinner. Katara couldn’t even think about eating. Her head was high in the clouds, her feet firm on the ground and her hand in Zuko’s. Katara felt warm and fuzzy at the thought of their kiss at the bow. Their _first_ kiss. She hoped it wasn’t the last.

Zuko giggled as he closed the door behind her. Katara set down her sketchbook and, walking aimlessly in his suite, looked around at the décor’s opulence.

His suite was a beauty to behold. Truly. She’d never tire of looking at it.

“Will this light do?” asked Zuko. 

She looked at him, eyebrows frowned. “What?”

“Don’t artists need good light?”

Oh! Right. Zuko had told her earlier he wanted her to draw… something. He hadn’t said exactly what. Katara pulled on her worst French accent and ran a finger on the fireplace’s mantle. 

“Zat is true, I am not yoused to wurrkin’ in such 'orreeble conditions!”

Zuko burst out laughing. 

Katara’s eyes landed on a painting in the corner. She gasped.

“Monet!”

Katara ran to the painting, hand hovering above the lily pads. Was this real? A real painting by Claude Monet? She’d always dreamed of buying one, but of course, that dream was far-fetched at best. Katara adored the way he drew the water, the way it glistened in the light. That was exactly how it felt when she was bending. This didn’t look perfect, like many classical paintings she’d seen. This felt real. Tangible, yet like in a dream.

“You know his work?” 

“Of course! Isn't he great…? His work is fascinating. You can see all his brushstrokes! And his use of color, oh!” Katara didn’t even wait to see if Zuko was listening. She knew he was. “I saw him once... through a hole in his garden fence in Giverny.”

“I wish I’d been there.”

Katara rose from her crouch and watched as Zuko opened up a large green safe. She arched an eyebrow. What was he doing?

Zuko gestured vaguely at the safe. “Mai insists on luggin this thing everywhere.”

Katara felt her heart sink. Mai. His fiancée. Right.

“Should we be expecting her anytime soon?”

“Not as long as the gossip holds out.”

Zuko showed her what he had found in the safe. Katara took in a sharp breath. She lifted the heart-shaped necklace up to her eye. It was heavy, so heavy in her palm, but oh so beautiful too, of the bluest hue, attached to a sparkly string which, in and of itself, must have cost more money than she’d make in a lifetime. 

“That’s… nice. What is it? A sapphire?”

“A diamond. A very rare diamond called the Heart of the Ocean.”

Katara swallowed. Even holding that thing felt wrong.

“Katara, I want you to draw me like one of your French men. Wearing this.”

She nodded. That was more than doable.

“Wearing only this.”

Katara looked at him with wide eyes. Zuko was smiling. The way his golden eyes shone in the light… he looked… pleased, but also nervous. 

“... Okay.”

He never stopped looking at her as he took back the necklace. Katara smiled, too. His fingers’ touch was electric. Zuko started to walk away. Then, he spun around.

“Wait! I want to try something. Come here.”

He took her hand, dragging her along to a mirror, mounted on a desk. Without really thinking, Katara sat in the chair facing the desk. Zuko crouched behind her, eye-to-eye with her. Somehow, the look in his eyes told him everything she needed to know. His hands reached for the back of her neck… then he stopped.

“Can I?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

He removed her mother’s necklace and she put it safely in her pocket. Holding the Heart of the Ocean between his two hands, he put it around Katara’s neck. Zuko didn’t click it shut. He held it there. At the back of her neck. The Heart of the Ocean caught the light. It sparkled. Even more beautifully than Iroh’s jewels. It was truly magnificent.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. And it’s the colour of your eyes.”

“It is.”

She saw Zuko’s reflection in the mirror. He hesitated. Until he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of her head. Katara closed her eyes. Smiling into the touch.

“Maybe you’re the one who should be wearing it,” he whispered in her hair.

“Oh, no, no, no. It’s yours. And I’m the one who has to draw you. Remember?”

“Right. Help me put it on?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The Heart of the Ocean clasped around his neck and Katara’s mother’s necklace clasped back around hers, Zuko smiled at her. Teasing.

“How do I look?”

“Handsome. As always.”

Zuko kissed her nose and walked over to the fireplace. He took in a deep breath and pointed two fingers at it. Sharply. Fire glowed from his hand into the fireplace. Warmth surrounded Katara. Everything glowed orange. Flickering.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

With that, Zuko left. Katara turned a table around and set down her art supplies. Her sketchbook was open. At the ready. She dragged a couch forward, oriented it towards the fireplace, and adjusted the cushions. Katara sat down on a plush-cushioned chair. She started sharpening her charcoal pen. Her knife’s _flick-flick-flick_ and the fire’s crackling were the only sounds in the room. Katara looked out at her working station. Nervousness bubbled in her chest. Katara had never felt nervous before drawing someone. But now…

Now he was Zuko. And it felt… different. Intimate.

 _Click._ The door opened. When Katara looked up, she saw him in the doorway. Wearing a silk kimono. Black with golden accents, it fell around him like wings, covering his body from neck to floor. Katara’s hands stopped moving, knife halfway to her pen. She stared. Zuko’s sly grin reminded her of the one from last night at dinner, when he’d introduced the guest list. When he twirled the kimono’s tassel, Katara swallowed. He reached for her and dropped a dime in the palm of her hand. 

With a raised brow, Zuko said:

“The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a perfect soldier boy. As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.”

Katara nodded. “Got it.”

He nodded, too. There was a moment of hesitancy. Then Zuko opened the kimono.

Katara’s jaw dropped. Black and gold silk fell to the ground. With barely a whisper. At first she didn’t know where to look. At his face? At his…? Her gaze followed the lines of his body, from his face to his chiseled torso down and down and down… Katara cleared her throat. She somewhat regretted that Zuko had started a fire. 

Had it always been this hot in here?

“Do I look… good enough?”

Katara looked up. She saw insecurities behind those golden eyes. Katara wanted to jump up and hug him. But that would have been intrusive. So she stayed put. Offering comfort in her words instead.

“Good enough? Zuko, you’re… you’re the best model I’ve ever had.”

“I am? But…” His hand touched his scarred cheek. “...my face, it’s not…”

“Do you know how many artists would kill to have a face and a body like yours to draw? Your lovely eyes, your asymmetrical face, your… your everything? You’re more than good enough, Zuko. You’re gorgeous, you… You look _breathtaking_.”

It seemed like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Zuko nodded.

“Thank you. Um. Where should I...?”

Katara vaguely gestured at the…

“On the bed. I mean, the couch.”

Zuko smiled and almost chuckled. But not quite. Just a shiver of his shoulders. He settled down on the couch, on his side. Facing her. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so she guided him. One hand over his head, the other down near his mouth. He adjusted his body. Just a bit. There. Like that. Perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me. And try to stay still.”

Zuko nodded. Katara took in a deep breath. She started to draw.

* * *

“You lied to us,” said Mako, not quite accusatory.

Katara blinked. “Hm?

“You did wear the diamond.”

Katara waved a hand at him. “Oh, for barely a second. I don’t think it counts.”

“I don’t care about the diamond,” cut in Korra in hushed, revering tones. “I care about him! It must have felt so… intimate. What did it feel like? To draw him like that?”

“Well! This must have been one of the most erotic moments of his life, I’m sure.”

Katara smiled, shifting in her chair on board Asami’s ship. Eyes landed on her as the treasure hunters’ crew leaned forward with bated breaths. She took comfort in their silence, their interest, their expectations. She could see their questions, their comments, buried in their heads. Not all of them were appropriate, though what was appropriate about this?

“You’ve seen the drawing. My mind was coming on empty. I felt like I was watching the sun during an eclipse, as if I shouldn’t have been looking but did anyway. He lay there for over two hours. I’m sure it must have been somewhat awful for him, wearing that thing while lying there. Vulnerable.”

“Can you…” Mako cleared his throat. “...give us any details?” 

“Oh! I remember him telling me I was blushing. And believe me, I was. He called me Big Artiste and told me he probably thought Monsieur Monet wouldn’t blush.”

Asami chuckled. “And what did you say?”

“That he only painted landscapes, of course.”

“And did you… ah… what happened next?”

She looked at Bolin. He looked away. Katara smiled.

“You mean… did we do it?”

The whole crew shifted on their seats. Teo grinned, bowing his head. Asami rubbed the back of her neck. She shared a glance with Korra. Who was smiling, too. Bolin and Mako, though, didn’t move a muscle. They only stared.

Katara waved a dismissive hand.

“Oh, trust me. Nothing happened on that couch. I was a professional. But you’ll see.”

* * *

“I’m done.”

Zuko’s heart pounded in his ears. It felt like it’d been pounding for years, but it had only been a few hours. He rose up from the couch, stretching his stiff arms over his head and pulling himself to the tip of his toes. Zuko saw Katara look. Stealing a last glance. With a smile and trembling hands, he put his kimono back on and tied it at his waist. He was shaking. All over. Zuko couldn’t believe he’d just... done that. But he had! He really had! 

Zuko approached Katara’s makeshift desk. He leaned over her shoulder, looking down at her drawing. She was scratching the date at the bottom. _April 14th, 1912._ And then her initials. _K.L._ Katara showed it to him. After admiring his drawing for a second, he looked at her. Zuko smiled. Truly grateful.

“Thank you.”

With that, he leaned down for another kiss. Feeling bold, Zuko opened his mouth. He felt a tingle run down his spine when Katara’s lips parted. Their tongues twisted together and Katara chuckled into him. Kissing Katara the second time was just the same as kissing her for the first time. It felt right. It felt good. It felt so, so, _so_ good. 

Zuko pulled away. He nudged her nose with his. She chuckled again.

“I’m gonna go get dressed.”

“I’ll be waiting right here.”

Zuko took Katara’s sketchbook. Before he put it in the safe, though, he had another idea. He went to fetch a blank scroll and a brush with an ink pot. Zuko started to write. 

“What are you doing?” asked Katara, coming over.

“Leaving a note.” He handed her the diamond in its velvet box. “Could you put that in the safe for me, please? Thank you.”

Katara left. 

Zuko almost hesitated before finishing his message. Almost. After putting the scroll with the velvet box in the safe, he ran off to get changed. Before he closed the door, though, Zuko turned around again. An idea had appeared, fully formed, in his head. He told Katara:

“Hey. I have something for you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute.”

When Zuko returned, Katara laughed. She took his straw hat, veil and dress with a smile. There was even a small pot with red makeup he’d stolen from Azula. 

Everything the Painted Lady might need.

“I know you may not have the time to go back to your cabin for now, but… I thought that maybe… the Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit could get a last hurrah? After that, I’m hanging my mask and costume. Promise.”

“Got it. Now go get dressed!”

Zuko ran off to his room again. He put on two layers of clothes. His regular outfit underneath and his black clothes over it. Walking around in the Blue Spirit’s regalia all the time might not be such a good idea, he reasoned, so that was why he did it. He put the mask over his face and ceased to be Zuko. Just for one night. Just for one last night.

When he walked out of his bedroom, Katara was already there. Looking magnificent as the Painted Lady. She was currently standing by the desk, looking at herself in his handheld mirror. She looked up and smiled under her straw hat.

“You ready?” 

“Always ready.”

* * *

She heard someone walking in the suite. They had to hurry.

Katara reached for the water in the pipes. She lifted her hands. In the hallway, mist rose from the ceiling and floor. People looked around. Confused. Soon, the lights started flickering. A door down the hallway opened. The Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit walked out, her gliding and him swinging his swords. Gasps echoed along the walls. People bowed, others offered prayers. The Spirits ran past them on their way to freedom.

Someone appeared at the suite’s door. 

“Stop them!”

Azula.

Katara quickened her pace. Zuko sheathed his swords and followed after her, avoiding the thin ice she used to make it look like she was flying. Someone slipped and fell. Oops. Katara sincerely hoped it was Azula.

When they made it to the elevator, the valet screamed bloody murder.

“Take us down,” ordered Katara in her raspy, Painted Lady voice. “Hurry!”

With trembling hands, the valet closed the gate and activated the machine. Azula arrived, a step behind. Her hands clawed at the gate. Zuko lifted his middle finger at her. Katara burst out laughing. They waved goodbye. The valet eyed them at first as if they’d lost their minds, but then a twinkle in his eye told Katara he’d realized they weren’t _actual_ Spirits. He waved at Azula too, then. Azula made a screech like a wounded animal. She soon disappeared out of sight. 

They scared a few crewmembers on the way down. Katara knew Azula mustn’t be far away, but she wanted just a moment of peace. They made it to a door with a small round window at the top. The door flapped closed and they stopped. Breathing heavily. Katara leaned her straw hat against Zuko’s arm, heart pounding. She felt so _alive_. 

“Your sister’s pretty tough,” she whispered, panting.

“Yeah, well, that’s Azula for you. But I don’t want to talk about her.”

Pulling his mask up onto his forehead, he clasped his hand with Katara’s and brought her closer. Zuko backtracked until his back rested against the wall. His hands travelled down her arms all the way to her waist and her hands curled around his shoulders. Feeling his strong muscles. Katara couldn’t help but be in awe of him. He was so strong, yet he looked so young, the way he smiled. Carefree. Like that time at the party.

Zuko leaned down for a kiss. Katara pushed herself on her tiptoes. She didn’t have the time to feel his blessed lips on hers, though.

Zuko looked up. Azula had turned the corner. 

“Oh, shit.”

Katara took Zuko’s hand and pulled him along. 

“Go!”

They ran.

Giggling and barely looking at where they were going, they turned at a corner. Dead end. Trapped! Katara pulled a door open. She shoved Zuko in after her and locked it just in time. She barely heard a _thud!_ and a rush of flames beyond the door. Azula screamed. They were safe, for now. Kind of safe. There was no way out except a ladder going down. Katara put her hands on her ears. It was so loud in here, she could barely hear herself think. Zuko pulled his mask down and put his hands over his ears, too.

“We have to go down!” 

“What?”

“What?”

Before Zuko could explain, Katara jumped down the ladder.

They stumbled upon the boiler room, where hundreds of workers toiled long hours every day to make the ship go forward. The growl of metal was all around, machines pumping and turning. Some men were dropping coal in boilers. Others pushed carts forward. When eyes started to land on them, many gasped. They bowed as respectfully as they could in the cramped space. Katara smiled. Who knew a costume could make _anyone_ bow?

“It’s the Painted Lady! And the Blue Spirit!”

Without a word, Katara started to run. She heard Zuko follow, right behind her. 

Her veil fluttered and her dress billowed, gorgeous in the low light. Everything was orange down here, on fire. Burning hot. It was a sharp contrast to the world up above, filled with ocean blues. Not that Katara complained. Zuko knew her world, of water and salt. This was Zuko’s world, made of fire and smoke. Nothing - not even any sunset - could compare to this growling fire. Down here, she felt closer to him than ever before.

They stopped in a secluded spot. Away from stares. 

Around them, everything pounded, roared, _lived_. Fire was life, Katara realized. It burned hot and bright and had a mind of its own. It wasn’t complacent, it couldn’t be stifled. Fire burned until there was nothing left. That’s what would’ve happened to Zuko had he stayed with them up there. He would have burned inside out.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Zuko, pushing his mask up on his forehead.

His sweaty hair, underneath, stuck to his skin. His eyes gleamed. He breathed in and out heavily, but he didn’t look tired. Zuko looked alight, at ease, alive. 

He looked beautiful.

“I’m thinking about fire.”

Katara tilted her head up. At first Zuko’s eyes searched hers, as if he didn’t understand, but then that soft smile crossed over his face. He leaned down, pushing the Painted Lady’s straw hat up. His hands, gentle, moved the veil aside. He kissed her.

They shared their third kiss in the boiler room, amidst a sea of orange and steam. Kissing Zuko for the third time was like kissing him for the first and the second. He was smokey, tender, never taking more than he gave. But as the kisses went by, he was growing bolder. He reached down and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his muscular chest. Katara wrapped her arms around his neck. She faintly realized her hat was slipping away and falling. Her makeup must have been ruined, too.

She didn’t care. 

Zuko’s tongue explored her mouth, playing around, testing the waters. Her fingers toyed with his hair. Zuko moaned.

There was only fire and them, kissing in the dark.

* * *

Iroh sipped his brandy, wondering not for the first time why he even bothered to follow Ozai wherever he went. To keep an eye on him, that he was sure. But also to keep an eye on him _just in case_ he wanted to pull something on Zuko. Probably.

He still hated brandy, though.

When Azula walked in, Iroh tried not to look too interested.

“He went into the boiler room. They didn’t want me to go down there. So I sent stewards to look for him.”

Iroh bit back a victorious smile. 

“This is a ship, he can’t be far!” Ozai raised an eyebrow. “I hope they find him.”

Iroh took another sip of his brandy. He hoped Zuko knew what he was doing. _Well._ He was probably figuring it all out on the fly.

Ah, the joys of young love…

* * *

Zuko opened the cargo hold door. Cold air hit him like a wave, shocking after the hotness of the boiler room. As cold as a firebender could get, anyway. He held the door open for her. Katara giggled something about Zuko being gentlemanly and he took her hand. They walked amongst the mountains of crates and boxes. When they found a secluded spot, just in case anyone were to somehow be out looking for them, Zuko started to slip out of his costume. Katara, behind him, cleared her throat.

“Um. What are you doing?”

“With Azula on the prowl, I don’t think it’d be wise for the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady to be seen even more, don’t you think?”

“Oh! Yes, you’re probably right.”

He heard the shuffling of straw when she removed her hat, but he didn’t look. Zuko knew Katara had thrown her costume over her civilian clothes, but he still wanted to give her privacy. He waited until she told him it was okay to look, then they stashed their hat and mask and dark clothes in a safe place, off to the side, propped up between a wall and a crate. Zuko clasped their hands together. His feet guided them between the crates until it appeared. The burgundy Renault he’d seen when leaving Southampton.

Katara dropped his hand and stood by the steering wheel, eying the car with awed eyes. Zuko cleared his throat. Katara spun around. Eyes questioning.

“Hm?”

Zuko made a vague gesture at the door. 

“Oh! Of course.”

Katara walked around Zuko and opened the door. She helped him up and clicked the door shut. It smelled new in here. The scents of leather and flowers permeated the air. A honk echoed through the cargo hold. Zuko pulled down the window. He leaned over Katara’s shoulder, next to her ear. Zuko looked at her from the corner of his eyes. She was grinning. 

“Where to, sir?” asked Katara.

Zuko thought for just a second. 

“How about the moon? Or the sun?”

“What do you mean, ‘how about’?”

“Well, you rise with the moon, I rise with the sun.”

“What?”

“Waterbender. Firebender.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. But does it _sound_ right?”

Zuko shrugged. That was fair. It didn’t sound right. “Maybe it doesn’t.” 

“Let’s try again, then. Where to, sir?”

Another, much better idea settled in his brain. Zuko leaned close to her ear.

“To the stars.”

“Ah,” she grinned. He felt Katara shiver. “That does sound better.”

Feeling himself growing bolder by the second, Zuko curled his hands under her arms. He pulled Katara to the back of the car. She chuckled. Zuko pushed the window back up, just in case people came around and heard. The back of the car was a bit small for two, but comfortable nonetheless. They snuggled on the plush upholstery seat, hands intertwined. Katara’s eyes gleamed with warmth and a hint of something else, meeting his own. 

They didn’t speak. Not yet. 

Then, he found where the smell of flowers came from. Zuko looked up. A small bouquet of flowers had been attached to a wall in a crystal vase. Zuko smiled.

“What?” asked Katara.

“Look.” She turned to look behind her. “Fire lilies. They’re flowers from home. They only grow in the height of summer. It’s a miracle they survived out here.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“And look. They’re tied with blue ribbons.”

She turned back around to look at him. 

“As if they belonged there.”

“Yeah. As if.”

Zuko leaned forward. They kissed once, twice, and Zuko pulled away. He wasn’t entirely ready. Not yet. He wanted to let this moment last longer. Just a little longer.

“Are you nervous?” asked Zuko.

“No. You?”

“No. Yes. I... a bit. Can this wait? Just a moment?”

She nodded, a warm smile on her face. Understanding. Before any awkward silence could settle between them, Katara said out of the blue:

“You know, I never told you but... I like the sound of your voice.”

He blinked. “You do?”

“Hm, hm. It’s raspy yet soft. Makes me think of sand on a beach. I like it.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from a waterbender. What should I say, then?”

“I don’t know. My name, maybe?”

Zuko blinked again.

“Your name?”

“Yeah. I like the way you say my name.”

Saying her name was more than fine. He loved the way it danced on his tongue. Zuko brought her closer, even closer than before, and whispered:

“Katara, Katara, Katara, Katara, Katara, Katara…”

Every time he said her name, he’d punctuate it by kissing her. Behind her ear. Along her jawline. To the spot where her neck met her shoulder… Katara closed her eyes, body tense and smile curling her lips. Zuko felt her shiver. And he shivered, too.

Katara opened her eyes, lips apart. When she didn’t say anything, Zuko asked:

“How do you feel?” 

“I feel… great. You?”

“I’m not nervous anymore.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. Is this your…” Zuko swallowed. “Is this your first time, too?”

“Yes.”

“Oh… Katara, I… I’m sorry. It’s probably gonna hurt and I… I promise, I…”

“Zuko. It’s okay. I trust you. I wouldn’t want to live this with anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Zuko was shaking all over. But not of fear. Of anticipation. He was ready, now. 

“Put your hands on me, Katara.”

“... Okay.”

She unbuttoned his shirt. Her hands trailed up and down his torso. Zuko didn’t move a muscle; he couldn’t. It wasn’t unpleasant, though. This was the good kind of freeze. Her hands went down to his belt, barely grazing it and sending shivers down his spine. The things she did to him… he couldn’t describe them fairly, really.

Katara wrapped her arms around his torso and looked him in the eye.

“So, you’re sure about this?” asked Katara.

“Yes. Entirely. Completely.”

“Good. If at any moment you want to stop, tell me.”

“Same thing for you.”

“I will.”

She kissed him with an open mouth this time, and brought him down with her.

It happened. 

In the back of that car.

After the first few uncomfortable minutes, they moved in tandem. Together. Push and pull. Push and pull. At first, it was good, but then it grew into great, into _wonderful_ . Push. Zuko groaned. Pull. Katara gasped. It built up, built up, built up… until it became _too much._ Push and pull. _Push._ Whimper. _Pull._ Moan. When the right moment came, when he felt like his entire body was going to burst, Zuko reached out. His hand pushed against the steamy window. Leaving an imprint behind. 

Katara laughed. He dropped his hand. Zuko looked at her as she laughed. He breathed in. Breathed out. Breathed in. Breathed out. Release. He felt _release._ And so he focussed on her. With her head thrown back and eyes closed. 

Zuko felt himself smile. 

He loved her laugh. He loved her smiles and her eyes and her skin and her hair. He loved her roaring fires and her cool waters. He loved making love to her. 

He loved her. He loved her _so much._

“Katara…” He panted, voice barely a grunt. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Katara’s face fell. Her laughter died in her throat. Her eyes opened. Wide. She stopped moving. Nerves rattling his bones, Zuko stayed there, lying on his back, with her on top of him, like that night when she’d saved him and that night at the party. Straddling his hips. Katara was beautiful, sweat at her brow and hair messy, pouring around her shoulders. Her lips, almost bruised, were agape in disbelief, and he wanted to kiss her just for that. Just for being her.

Instead, Zuko waited. Patient. He felt his heart sink when she asked:

“Are you saying this just because of what we’re doing?”

“No. No, no, no, I’m serious.” He hoped nothing but honesty shone in his eyes. For that was exactly how he felt. He meant it. “I’m in love with you, Katara La.”

Her smile could have brightened the moon, the sun and the stars.

“I’m in love with you, too, Zuko Kai.”

Katara reached for Zuko’s face, warm hands cupping his cheeks. Her thumb traced constellations on his scar. Zuko tensed again. He felt it, he felt _her,_ he felt every inch of her, to the tip of his toes. Katara was warm. She was so, so warm... _How_ could she be so warm? Was it their shared body heat or the way she kindled the fire inside him? He wouldn’t mind any of these answers. He wouldn’t mind anything. Not when it came to her.

Katara leaned forward. They kissed again. And again. Deep. Messy. Beautiful. Push and pull, push and pull. Push and…. oh…! Pull and… ah…! They kissed. And again. And again and again and...

Until Zuko pulled back, gentle, and looked her in the eye.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not. You’re the one who’s trembling.”

“Oh. Oh, um, that’s true. Does it… Does it hurt anymore? I’m… I’m sorry if...” 

“It doesn’t.” Katara kissed his lips. Reassuring. She looked him in the eye again. “It really, really doesn’t. Don’t worry about me, Zuko. I’m gonna be all right. I feel…” She let out a small sigh. “I feel great.”

“Okay. Good. That’s… That’s good.”

Zuko breathed out. Satisfied. His whole body felt soft. Pliable. Exhausted. He kissed Katara’s sweaty forehead. With a heavy sigh, she rested her head against his chest. He felt her smile on his skin. Her hair tickled Zuko’s throat as his chin reposed on the top of her head. Their hearts beat in harmony. Perfectly. Zuko closed his eyes. He felt nothing but peace then, maybe for the first time in his life. 

Sweet, blessed peace. 

* * *

It took everything Mai had in her not to eat away at her nails. 

Instead, she paced around the suite, hands clasped behind her back. Mai almost jumped when Azula finally arrived, like a shadow along the walls. Azula wasn’t smirking. She looked contrite. Angered. Blue fire blossomed at her fingertips. Mai wasn’t a firebender, but she could still relate. It felt useless to ask, but she did anyway:

“Where is he? Did you find him?”

“No. No, I didn’t. I wanted to go to the boiler room myself, and I almost made it too, but an officer stopped me. The stewards will find him. They have to. If they don’t…”

“Do you think Zuko would run away like that?”

“I don’t know my brother anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Something hitched at the back of Mai’s mind. Something… something important. But what? _Oh_ . She hadn’t looked through her safe, like she did every night. Just to make sure the diamond was still in there. Mai almost floated to the safe and unlocked it, acting mechanically. When she saw some things that didn’t belong there, though, Mai froze. Nothing had been taken but these had been _added?_

Mai pulled the first _thing_ out. It was a distastefully old sketchbook. She flipped through the drawings. An old woman with more jewelry than she could count wrapped around her neck. A little girl reading a book with a woman. Male nude studies…

She turned the page. Mai went impossibly still.

“Mai? What is it? Show me!”

“I’m not sure you want to see that. It’s your brother.”

Not listening as always, Azula looked over Mai’s shoulder. Azula laughed. She actually _laughed_. Mai wanted to grab her by the shoulders, shake her, slap her, pierce her heart with one of the throwing knives she’d left at home. Or maybe with a hatpin. She wanted Azula to feel the way she was feeling. Like her whole world was crumbling down around her. Or like she was losing control. Second by second.

“Well, well, well!” said Azula. “That’s a part of Zuzu I never wanted to see.”

Today’s date had been scribbled at the bottom right corner alongside two rather familiar initials. Mai’s entire face contorted with fury. _K. L._

_Katara La._

Mai sniffed. Disdainfully. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She wasn’t supposed to look at… at… to look at her _fiancé_ like this until their wedding night. And he definitely hadn’t been supposed to be seen like… like this… by another woman! 

And he was wearing her engagement gift at that. 

And _only_ her engagement gift.

“Oh, that’s too good!” Azula cackled some more, just to rub salt in the wound at this point. “He wasn’t wrong, that La girl knows how to draw. It’s unmistakably him. I’m afraid your wedding night is ruined, Mai. He’s not exactly going to be the perfect husband now. Not when that peasant girl has been… _ahem_ … between the sheets.”

Mai turned to the second _thing_ in the safe. A scroll. She put the sketchbook under her armpit and unrolled the scroll. Zuko’s inelegant characters mocked her. 

He was _mocking_ her. From beyond the page. 

_Sweetpea, now you can keep us both locked in your safe. Zuko._

Mai dropped the scroll. Grabbing the sketchbook, she opened it again and pulled out _his_ drawing. She was going to tear it to shreds with her bare hands. 

Mai stopped at the last second. 

Wait.

What was that line Mai had once heard in a play? Or something akin to it?

Ah, yes.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

“I have a better idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um... *clears throat* Okay. I want to preface this by saying I'm aromantic and asexual, so if any of this... stuff... seems weird, sorry about that.
> 
> I really debated whether keeping the rating of this fic to T or changing it to M. But as that scene developed... I realized yeah. I needed to make it M.
> 
> Who knew Rose's kimono (I always thought it was a bathrobe but it's not according to the script, and knowing Rose likes Impressionist art, I'm not surprised lol) would be culturally appropriate when worn by Zuko? ;)
> 
> This is probably the longest chapter I've EVER written in my life. So. Enjoy!
> 
> Next week: Consequences and "Iceberg, right ahead!"


	9. Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

* * *

_And it’s breaking over me_

_A thousand miles down to the sea bed_

* * *

They’d broken apart some time ago, with Katara now mostly resting on his stomach and chest. Their bodies were covered by his long, dark coat, except for their bare feet. Leaving them exposed. Were they going to stay out here all night or leave sometime soon? Zuko had no idea. Zuko had never had _no idea_ . Every day was planned by others, planned to the second. Not now. Now he had no plan. Not knowing was fresh and new. It was _exciting._ Right about now, all he knew for certain was that Katara would one day be the death of him.

Why else would he feel so spent, exhausted, worn-out by her?

He didn’t mind that feeling, though. That was true. He didn’t mind it _at all._

“I can feel your heart beating,” said Katara.

Zuko smiled. 

“I can feel yours, too.”

He kept his eyes closed. She was there, resting her head against his chest and he was there, resting his chin on her head. _They_ were there. Huddling in the dark. Zuko still had trouble believing him and Katara formed an _us. Together._ They hadn’t moved an inch since they’d stopped. Which had only been a few minutes ago. But a few long, peaceful minutes. Zuko could feel Katara’s lips moving on his skin when she said:

“Did we really just… do it?”

Zuko frowned. “Do you have any regrets?”

He opened his eyes. Katara raised her head and looked back at him.

“No. None.”

“Me neither.”

Katara reached forward, pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes. She ran her hand along his scarred cheek, as if for good measure, and looked Zuko in the eye.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean… It feels a bit unreal. Like something out of a fantasy.”

“You... fantasized about this?”

Katara blushed. “ _Well_ , maybe I have. A little. But I’m mostly talking about being swept off my feet by a fairy tale prince.”

“What makes you think I’m a prince?”

“You. Your character. Handsome, honourable man who loves me for me barges into my life and takes me in for a ride. Isn’t that the definition of a fairy tale prince?”

“You’re the one who found me first.”

“I did. But you came back.”

“Yeah. I came back.”

Zuko ran his hand in Katara’s hair, stroking her cheek with his thumb. To think… if he hadn’t changed his mind… that he would have missed out on all… _this._ Every kiss, every touch, every shiver… The bow, the drawing, here in the car… He would have missed out. He would have missed _her._ Zuko kissed her forehead. Katara chuckled. He felt it rumbling through his chest. Rumbling through his body, through his bones.

“So you…” Zuko was the one who blushed, this time. He cleared his throat. “You... um… you liked it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I liked it a lot.”

“Me too.”

They smiled at each other. Grinning like fools. Katara settled her head back down on his chest and Zuko settled his chin back down on her head. He listened to their hearts beating. Breathed in, breathed out. Breathed in… That content smile spread on his face once more.

Peace. Sweet, blessed peace.

But then he heard them. He heard them coming. 

“They ran down there.”

“All right.”

Zuko’s eyes snapped open. 

“We have to get out of here. _Right now._ ”

* * *

“Bloody hell! It’s _cold._ ”

Up in the crow’s nest, the lookouts, Frederick Fleet and Reginald Lee, were standing in the cold. They rubbed their gloved hands against their arms as they looked out upon the endless pit of darkness. The ocean was calm. So calm. Almost too calm. If an iceberg were to glide over the waters, they wouldn’t be able to see it. But still they went on under the Captain’s orders, full steam ahead. Without care. Without prudence.

“You can smell ice, you know, when it's near,” said Fleet.

Fleet was full of shit and he knew it. But talking was better than hearing his clattering teeth. Lee looked him over. His face scrunched up in disbelief.

“Bollocks!”

Lee shoved him aside. Fleet’s hands rubbed his arms. Again.

“Well, I can, all right?”

Nah, he couldn’t. And he knew it.

* * *

First Officer William McMaster Murdoch walked out into the cold night air. Second Officer Charles Lightoller followed after him, walking just a step behind. Murdoch rubbed his gloved hands together. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. The cold night air burned through his clothes and the ocean, completely flat, made him uneasy. If icebergs were ahead… and they all knew, as they’d received so many warnings lately… 

And yet. They weren’t slowing down. At all.

“Did we ever find those binoculars for the lookouts?” asked Lightoller.

“Haven’t seen them since Southampton.”

Murdoch stood at the railing and Lightoller stood behind him. There was a brief moment of silence, then Lightoller said, as if uncomfortable:

“Well, I’ll be on my rounds.”

Murdoch sent Lightoller a look over his shoulder. They nodded at each other. Stiffly. With that, Lightoller left. Murdoch rested his hands against the railing. He looked out upon the open ocean. It was dark. So dark. Dark for miles. With no one else around.

He had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

“Gotcha!

Katara bit back a laugh as she watched. They were hiding behind one of the mountains of crates and boxes, not far from where they’d abandoned the Blue Spirit’s and the Painted Lady’s costumes. White beams of light searched through the cargo hold. 

Katara pulled on her mother’s necklace. She’d never gotten dressed so quickly in her life. Now she knew why Zuko had told her to get outta there. _Right now._ Two stewards had barged into the cargo hold and had opened the car door wide. She blushed at the thought of having been found there, butt naked on that car seat. She blushed even more at the thought of what they _had_ been doing on that car seat. Katara had never thought she’d one day be sleeping with a boy in a car of all places, but with Zuko, it felt right. 

Forbidden, sure. But right.

And it had hurt. At first. She couldn’t say that it hadn’t. 

Katara had even told him so.

And Zuko had been… well, _Zuko._ Soft. Kind. Caring. At Katara’s pained hiccup and a whispered “It hurts, it hurts so _much_ …”, Zuko had stopped. Immediately. Probably without even thinking about it. Zuko had sat up. He’d pulled her close, skin on skin, and had wrapped his arms tightly around her. Whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ …” in her ear. Over and over and over again. He had until she had told him, until she had _assured_ him, that she was going to be fine. That they could keep going. Only then had he breathed “Okay.” in her hair and they had lied back down on the plush upholstery seat. 

Only then had it really started. Only then had it really started to feel _good._

More than good. _Phenomenal._

Katara’s hand curled around the smooth stone hanging from her neck. 

She’d never thought she’d meet a guy - no, a _man_ \- as considerate as Zuko. Katara was used to Sokka’s friends. And not all of them were… _considerate_ about women. To say the least. Most made disparaging comments about their latest conquests. And they’d made those comments while Katara was in the room. Because she was just Sokka’s little sister in their eyes. Not really there. A shadow.

But Zuko being Zuko, he wasn’t like them. 

He’d always treated her fairly. A partner, an equal. He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe his luck. While Katara thought the same. _When did she get so lucky?_

They made quite the pair, didn’t they?

Zuko’s hand squeezed her shoulder. Katara looked up. He pressed a finger to his lips with one hand. The other pointed behind him with his thumb. Katara nodded. As silently as possible, they exited the cargo hold. Sticking close to the walls and staying as out of sight as they could from the men in the boiler room. They managed to find their way back to a ladder. Leading to the upper decks. 

Katara ran away hand in hand with Zuko. Up an elevator and down a few hallways. She pushed a creaking metallic door open. As they emerged into blissfully cool ocean air, Katara couldn’t stop herself. She laughed at the stars, spinning around wildly. Zuko burst out laughing, too. He followed her. Always just a step behind.

“Did you see those guys’ faces?!” asked Katara. “Did you _see_ them?!?”

* * *

As he rubbed his hands together, Murdoch heard the creaking of a door.

He still stood there. At the railing. But this time, Murdoch leaned down. Just a little. Just enough to see two lovebirds run outside. They made… an odd pair. He had to admit. A boy who looked like he belonged to the First Class world and a girl who… well, who didn’t. And they looked… hm. Somewhat ruffled. Hair undone and clothes crumpled.

Oh. 

* * *

“I saw them, I saw them!” laughed Zuko in that beautiful laugh of his.

They stopped near the crow’s nest. When Katara looked into those golden eyes, joy bubbled up inside her. They stood there on the cold deck, looking at each other, breaths white coming out of their mouths. Zuko looked warm, though. He was always warm and that was probably one of the perks of being a firebender. Katara wistfully thought about mornings spent with him as he rose with the sun. She imagined golden light filtering through white curtains, a soft breeze blowing through the opened window. She imagined those mornings, snuggled up in bed, warm beyond measure. She imagined.

That was all fantasy, of course. Katara knew that. Surely tonight would end with him going back to his fiancée and his world once again. 

Right?

As if he’d heard Katara’s thoughts, Zuko brought her closer. He put a hand in her hair, at the nape of her neck, and spoke with only certainty:

“When this ship docks, I’m getting off with you.”

Katara gaped at him.

“What?”

“When this ship docks, I’m getting off with you. I haven’t thought this through, I know. But I don’t care. I’m not going back. I’m sure we can find some room in your and Sokka’s room. Or maybe Aang’s. Or maybe even Jet’s, I guess we’re friends now. I’ll keep my head bowed until then. And when we arrive in New York…”

“You want to run away with me? Are you serious?”

“Yes! I… I know it doesn’t make any sense. That’s why I trust it. And… I… I want to live the rest of my life with you, Katara. If…”

Zuko hesitated. Lips trembling, gaze trailing off into the distance. Katara wanted to kiss the worry away. Yet she waited. Patient. He looked at her once more.

“If you don’t want me like that, if it’s just a one time thing, I… I get it. I understand. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m running away. I don’t want to marry Mai. I don’t love her. I… I’m _scared_ of her.” Zuko looked at her with so much desperation, so much _truth_ , that she ached inside. “Katara, I know you’re so… you’re you, and I’m just me, but...”

Katara didn’t let Zuko finish. She grabbed his coat collar and pulled him down to her.

* * *

The two lovebirds started kissing.

Chuckling, Murdoch looked away.

* * *

Katara kissed him again. She kissed him until he melted into her. She kissed him, biting at his lips with quick, hasty, urgent kisses. She kissed him until, when she pulled away, he looked at her dazed. The only sound that came out of Zuko’s mouth was a hum. His swollen lips were pink and his eyes sparkled. He looked beautiful. 

As always. 

Katara cupped his scarred cheek with one hand. The way she had in the gymnasium and at the bow of the ship. Her thumb traced his scar. Zuko smiled again.

“All right, I didn’t mind _that_. But what was that for?”

“I told you, Zuko Kai. I’m in love with you. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

He laughed. 

“Understood.”

“So we’ll run away together,” she said, talking like that time she had at the railing, when they’d said they’d go to Santa Monica. “You’re going to meet my Dad and my Gran-Gran. And I want you to meet my stepdad, too.”

Zuko frowned.

“Your stepdad?”

“Bato. I probably should have told you before, but well, I didn’t. It’s… unofficial, as far as Gran-Gran said. But yeah. Dad and him really love each other. And Bato is the sweetest man I’ve ever met. So I want you to meet him, too.”

“All right. I’ll meet Bato, too. I’ll do anything. As long as I get to do it with you.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around her. He spun her around. Like something out of a nickelodeon. They laughed again. They laughed at this future they were going to build together. Katara still couldn’t believe her luck. To think that in the past few days, they had met, had fallen in love, yes, in _love,_ and now they were thinking about running away and making a life together… 

They were going fast. Sure. 

But Katara didn’t mind it in the slightest. Zuko was a whirlwind, a fire tornado. It felt only natural to go fast with him. To follow his pace.

Katara’s feet touched the ground. They kissed again. And again… And again...

Then came that thought once more.

_When did she get so lucky?_

* * *

It was cold, so cold. 

Fleet shivered in the crow’s nest. He rubbed his hands together. It was so, so, so _cold._ Why had he decided to take this bloody job again? What different choices in life should he have made so tonight could have been spent in a warm, warm bed, possibly with a girlfriend or wife? It was cold, so bloody _cold_. That is, until he looked down. 

Fleet grinned when his gaze landed on the two lovebirds, standing all alone on deck. Even from up here, he could clearly see them making out. Spinning in circles, hugging, kissing each other senseless. Fleet chuckled.

“Hey… look at that, would ya?”

Lee leaned over his shoulder. He whistled.

“They're a bloody sight warmer than we are.”

Fleet, chuckling, pushed him away with his elbow.

“Well, if that's what it takes for us two to get warm, I'd rather not, if it's all the same!”

They shared a laugh. Fleet looked from Lee to the open water. That was when Fleet’s eyes landed on… something, far into the horizon. Fleet’s face fell and blood left his face. Five hundred yards out, probably not much more, stood a massive wall of ice. 

He saw it first. 

“Bugger me!”

Fleet shoved Lee aside and grabbed the lookout bell pull. He rang. Three times. _Ding! Ding! Ding!_ resonated far into the empty night air. Then, Fleet grabbed the telephone. He called. The telephone rang. And rang. And rang.

“Pick up, ya bastard!”

Finally, far too late than he’d hoped, someone picked up the telephone.

“Is someone there?”

“Yes,” answered an officer’s voice. “What do you see?”

“Iceberg, right ahead!”

“Thank you.” He hung up.

A part of Fleet was shocked they were facing an iceberg. Another part of him, though, told him they should have expected it.

They should have expected it. Way sooner.

* * *

Murdoch’s face fell. He was the second one who saw it.

A cold fear settled in his stomach. Murdoch pushed himself off the railing, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He rushed to the opened door leading to the helm. One of the sailors was on his way out and they wrestled in the doorway for a too-long second. Murdoch screamed, over the sailor’s shoulder:

“Iceberg, right ahead!”

The sailor’s face fell, too. He spun around, towards the helm.

“Hard a’ starboard!” they yelled together. “Hard a’ starboard!”

Quartermaster Robert Hitchens started pulling hard on the helm. Rushing away, Murdoch pushed aside another sailor. The man’s teacup emptied itself, tea spilling everywhere. Murdoch ran to the engine room telegraph. He signalled _FULL SPEED ASTERN_ . He hoped he’d been fast enough. He hoped _they’d_ been fast enough.

He couldn’t bear thinking what would happen if they weren’t fast enough.

“Hard a’ starboard,” yelled Murdoch over his shoulder.

“The helm is hard over, sir,” answered Hitchins.

He hoped they’d been fast enough. 

Please, please, please…

* * *

Fleet braced himself, gripping the crow’s nest railing with both hands. Lee muttered something he didn’t quite catch. His eyes were focussed on the iceberg as he counted the seconds. Too long. Too long. What were they doing down there?! 

“Why aren’t they turning?!” asked Lee.

Then, they started to turn. Slowly. 

So slowly.

“Come on, come on, come on…”

Anxiety clawed at Fleet’s belly. Turn, turn, turn, bloody ship!

Too late. They were too late. 

The ship hit the iceberg. _KRUUUNCH!!_ Fleet wanted to cover his ears at that sound. But all he could do was listen. And watch. And feel. The whole ship shook, creaking and groaning, and down there, though he didn’t see it, the two lovers were pulled apart. Fleet’s hands shook on the railing. No. The _railing_ was shaking. 

They had hit an iceberg.

They had hit an iceberg, they had hit an iceberg, _they had hit an iceberg._

He really hoped this ship was as unsinkable as everyone thought.

* * *

Toph woke up when the whole ship shook.

* * *

Iroh’s teacup shook in his hands. He looked up. The chandelier shook overhead.

* * *

“Get back!” shouted Katara. 

She grabbed his arm and pulled Zuko away. A thick wall of ice had appeared off the side of the ship. Huge chunks of ice, one the size of his head, dropped down where they had been standing a second ago. Katara took in a deep breath. What was happening? 

Had they hit an iceberg?

Her jaw dropped. They had. They’d hit an iceberg. Zuko’s face mirrored her own. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. They stared as the iceberg disappeared out of sight, travelling lightning fast down the length of the ship. 

“Well, I’m right at home, now,” tried to joke Katara.

She lifted a hand. One of the chunks of ice floated up to her. It twirled over her palm.

“See? Waterbending comes in handy in these parts.”

Katara knew Zuko could see it in her eyes. Could hear it in her voice. She was trying to joke, but nothing was funny about this. There was something wrong. 

They knew it.

“Yeah. Sure.”

They should have turned way before hitting the iceberg.

* * *

“That was close,” said Fleet.

Even to his own ears, it didn’t sound enough. He watched as the wall of ice travelled the length of the ship. Barely grazing them. Surely it had only grazed them. Right?

“You can smell the ice, huh?”

Lee grabbed Fleet by his collar. He sent him one furious glare.

“Bloody bastard!”

* * *

This couldn’t be happening. This simply couldn’t be happening.

Murdoch stood by the helm with his back straight. Now wasn’t the time for shock. Now was the time to keep to protocol. Now was the time to think.

“Note the time,” he told James Paul Moody stiffly. “Enter it in the log.”

Captain Smith rushed in. He wasn’t wearing either his coat or his hat. He must have been awoken by the shaking ship. Perhaps. Murdoch could almost still feel it, that tremor, and he could almost still hear that sound… embedded in his brain.

“What was that, Mr. Murdoch?” asked Captain Smith.

“An iceberg, sir. I put her hard a' starboard and ran the engines full astern, but it was too close. I tried to port around it, but she hit... and I…”

“Close the emergency doors.”

“The doors are closed, sir.”

Murdoch followed after the Captain outside. Smith walked to the side of the ship, looking out into the darkness aft. He called out:

“Full stop!”

Someone answered: “Aye, Captain!”

Murdoch and Captain Smith moved to stand at the railing. Murdoch felt sickened.

They’d hit an iceberg. They’d hit it.

“Find the Carpenter and get him to sound the ship.”

“Yes, sir!”

Murdoch rushed away. Following orders.

* * *

“What?”

Toph disentangled herself from Aang. They hadn’t been doing anything, not really, but it had felt good to be there with him. He’d allowed her to touch his face, to feel his bald head, his rough tattoos. To feel his skin against hers. They’d gone down to his room after he promised he wouldn’t pull anything. Not that he would have been able to. Toph could’ve lifted Twinkle Toes over her head so easily, it was kind of hilarious.

She had a passing thought to the kind old man with the teacup in his hands who had been wandering the First Class deck that morning. She’d had a good conversation with Iroh. About duty, honour and breaking free. He’d convinced her to follow her heart.

That’s what Toph had said to Aang. That he’d given her the push she’d needed.

But now… now she hoped the old man was all right. Because… 

“Something’s wrong,” she said.

Toph jumped up. When she landed on the floor, her feet hit cold water, so cold. 

Too cold.

Toph yelped. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt! She put one foot up, the other resting in the water. What was going on? What was happening? There was water in Aang’s cabin!

 _Sea_ water.

“What’s happening?” asked Aang. “Wait… where does that water come from?”

“I don’t know. But it’s bad.”

Appa groaned and Momo chatted, on the bed. Toph ignored the both of them. She put a hand against the cool metal walls and tried to feel her way through the ship. She couldn’t see as far as she wanted, but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong. Something was so, _so_ wrong.

Toph opened the stateroom’s door. People were standing in their own doorways, probably wondering what in the Spirits’ names was going on. She thought she heard Snoozles down the hall, swearing loudly. Jet arrived then, feet splashing up and down to keep out of the cold water. 

“Pack as much as you can,” he told her. “We have to get out of here.”

Toph didn’t have anything. She hadn’t really expected to stay the day with Sokka, Suki, Jet and Aang, never mind spend the night there. But Aang still handed her her jacket and he started to pack whatever he could. He didn’t have much. Aang was used to nomadic life, so he preferred to travel light. He had to coax Appa and Momo to step in the cold, so cold water, but finally, they left the cabin. They started after Jet down the hallway and soon found Sokka, looking groggy from sleep, but still awake from the cold, cold water. 

Had Toph said the water was cold?

Toph frowned. Was she imagining things? No. Her earthbending never lied. She felt a dozen little feet scuttling away. Squeaking. Jet said, confirming her thoughts:

“If the rats are going there, it’s good enough for me.”

Toph followed after them, and after the rats. 

* * *

Something was wrong. 

Iroh put his teacup down. He hadn’t been able to sleep, not when he didn’t know if Zuko was all right. Well. He was certain he was in, _ahem_ , good hands with Miss Katara, but he knew Azula would never stop searching. That’s why he was awake when the ship shook.

Iroh rose to his feet. The room stopped shaking, but he could still feel its effects. Dread settled in his bones. Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong. Iroh put on his slippers, grabbed his night robe and opened his door wide. Men in suits and women in fine dresses had appeared at their doors. Sharing the same looks of concern. 

One woman walked over to a steward. She asked:

“Excuse me. Why have the engines stopped? I felt a shudder!”

“There's no cause for alarm. We’ve only lost a propeller blade. That was the shudder you felt. Please, go back to your rooms.”

Iroh didn’t think so. 

When a familiar man holding rolled up blueprints marched briskly past him, Iroh called after him.

“Mr. Andrews!”

Mr. Andrews spun around. 

“Mr. Kai, I’m sorry, but I really need to get going.”

Uncle walked closer. He put a reassuring hand on Mr. Andrews’ shoulder. The poor man looked… stressed. To say the least. Uncle knew that look. It was the look of a man about to face a battle he didn’t know he could win. About to send soldiers out to die.

“I know. I was a General once, I know how it is when a man needs an advisor.”

Mr. Andrews blinked. He looked around… then back at Iroh.

“I’m sorry?”

“If I could come with you, it would mean the world to this poor old man.”

Mr. Andrew opened his mouth. He looked like he was about to say something dismissive, but instead, he nodded. They started away at a brisk pace down the halls. Iroh thought he heard Mai’s voice calling out to an officious-sounding steward that she had been robbed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He also may have heard Mrs. Beifong call out frantically to the same steward, saying that her daughter was nowhere to be found. But he couldn’t be sure. 

“Yes, the matter is urgent! I’ve been robbed!”

“My daughter! Have you seen my daughter? I’m afraid she’s been kidnapped!”

Iroh followed Mr. Andrews until he was away and out of earshot.

* * *

“Hey! You missed the fun!” 

“Did you see what happened?”

Zuko opened the gate leading to the First Class deck for Katara. A crowd was already gathering on the deck, looking at the chunks of ice the iceberg had left behind. A few passengers were even playing with the ice chunks, kicking them around. A shuffle of many feet was heard over the mumbling crowd. Zuko was mildly surprised to see the approaching Captain, his officers trailing behind him, as they talked in hushed voices. They were talking in nautical terms he couldn’t understand, but they looked… troubled. Talking quickly, so quickly. The matter was urgent. Something terrible had happened.

That’s when Zuko also noticed Mr. Andrews amongst that group and… and an old man he knew very well who was walking with them. Zuko frowned. 

“Uncle?”

Uncle didn’t seem to hear him. He followed after the Captain, the officers and Mr. Andrews, down the stairs to the lower decks.

“This is bad,” said Katara.

Zuko nodded. Understatement of the century, perhaps, but still. If Uncle was this preoccupied, it must’ve been bad indeed. Zuko swallowed.

“We should tell them. Father, Azula and Mai.”

“Are you sure?”

He loathed the idea of going back there, of standing in a room with them, but he didn’t really have another choice. He couldn’t let anything bad happen to them. He’d never forgive himself. Even after all they’d done… he couldn’t leave them to die. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” answered Zuko honestly. “I’m sure. After that, we’ll go and find Sokka, Aang and the others. To make sure they’re okay.”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

As they stepped back into First Class territory, Zuko felt something tug on his arm. Or rather. Someone. He turned around. Katara had stopped. A step or so away. She was holding onto his sleeve, head bowed. Not quite looking at his eyes.

“Katara?”

“Zuko… wait.”

He walked up to her, immediately fearing the worst.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

The smile she offered him told him no. Nothing was wrong. Zuko felt some amount of relief at that. But still. What was the matter? 

Katara’s voice grew softer as she said:

“I… I wanted to say thank you.”

“Thank… me?” He looked at her whole face, mouth slightly agape. “For what?”

“For not treating me like a plaything. For hearing me. For listening to me.”

“You mean… about…?”

“Yes. About that. About… about sex. A lot of men wouldn’t have been so… considerate of me. But _you_ were. You treat me like a person. Thank you.”

“Isn’t that the bare minimum? You shouldn’t be thanking me for that.”

“I know. It should be. But it isn’t. So what I’m trying to say is… it’s appreciated.”

Something settled in Zuko’s chest. Fuzziness. Fondness. _Devotion._ A soft smile spread on his face. He pulled Katara close and kissed her. A peck on the lips. Then he pressed their foreheads together. Looking into her eyes. Deep into her eyes.

“I know what it feels like not to be heard. To be treated like an object you can throw away when you’re done with it. I don’t want you to feel like you can be spat out. Because I know what that feels like. Maybe not about… about sex per se, but about everything else. And you know… I’m with you in _that_ as I’m with you in all things. So it applies.”

Zuko stopped talking. His mouth hung open for a second. Did that…?

“Did that make any sense? I’m not sure I’m expressing myself correctly here.”

It was Katara’s turn to kiss him. Barely a touch of the lips. But Zuko never found Katara to be “just” or “barely”. She was enough. She was everything. 

Katara rested her forehead against his once more.

“Yes. Yes, it does. It makes perfect sense.”

“Good.” Zuko nodded. “That’s good.” 

“Now you know I don’t take this for granted.”

“I don’t either.” Zuko pursed his lips. “And, um… Katara?”

“Yes?”

“I want to thank you, too. For hearing me. For listening to me. About… about the drawing. And… And of course, in, um… in the car.”

“You’re welcome. I’m with you in _that_ as I’m with you in all things. Right?”

“Right.” 

They smiled at each other. Then, they clasped their hands together and walked away.

When they reached the hallway leading to Zuko’s suite, hand in hand, Zuko almost ran away when he saw Azula leaning against the wall panelling. She smirked.

“We were looking for you, brother.”

Katara squeezed his hand. Zuko nodded. He squared his shoulders, head held high. He wasn’t going to let Azula get under his skin. They walked past her, down the hallway.

“You know… these are rather good.”

“Give me that! I want this whole room photographed.”

Eyes found Zuko and Katara as they stepped in the suite. Azula followed after them, closing the door. Zuko couldn’t shake away this feeling that they were trapped. He saw Father tense as he gripped his wine glass. Father looked disheveled, as if he’d just been woken up. Because of the iceberg, perhaps? But no. Something else was going on. Katara’s drawings were being eyed by… by the Master at Arms. Who was there. The same one who had put handcuffs around Katara’s wrists that night at the back of the ship. 

Zuko’s eyes found Mai’s. She stared him down. Standing up straight. Poised. And yet… she looked... _angry._

Zuko didn’t look away.

“Something serious has happened,” said Zuko.

“That’s right,” agreed Mai. “Two things dear to me have disappeared this evening.” She looked him up and down. “Now that one is back…” She sent a look over at Katara. “... I have a pretty good idea where to find the other.”

“Search her,” said Azula.

Katara dropped Zuko’s hand. He looked at Katara, at Father, at Azula, at Mai. What was going on? What was happening?

“Now what?” asked Katara.

A steward walked over to Katara. He stopped a step or so away.

“Um… Miss… um…”

“Oh, for Spirits’ sakes. Let me do it!”

Azula pushed the steward away. She yanked Katara’s coat off. Under the Master at Arms’s watchful eyes, she searched her. Zuko frowned.

“Mai, we’re in the middle of an emergency. What’s going on?”

“Oh, yes, we _are_ in the middle of an emergency. You just don’t know it yet.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“Is this it?”

Zuko froze. He felt his own stomach turn to ice. Azula was holding the Heart of the Ocean in her hand. It sparkled in the light. She’d… Azula had pulled it out of Katara’s pocket. Out. Of. Her. _Pocket_. Zuko’s mouth hung open. He felt his tongue heavy, turned to lead, in his mouth. He didn’t know what to think. What was this? Another of Azula’s lies? Azula always lied, but what about Mai? What about Father?

“Are you _fucking_ …?!” said Katara. “No, no, no, no, no! I didn’t do this, I didn’t! You can’t believe them, Zuko! You can’t!”

Zuko blinked. Trying to make sense of this. None of this… None of this made sense!

“She couldn’t have,” he managed to say. 

Voice raspier. Breaking.

“She couldn’t. She… She didn’t.”

“She could have. She did.” 

Mai stood by his side. She sent him a sidelong glance. He wanted to throw up.

“Easy enough for a professional.”

The Master at Arms walked behind Katara. He pulled at her wrists harshly. Trying to put the handcuffs back on her. Zuko knew from the look in her eyes… He could now tell she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She wasn’t.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

As if on instinct, Katara waved her arms. Water rose up from a vase. It fell uselessly when the Master at Arms wrapped his arms around Katara. He pulled her up and her feet kicked the empty air. The water splashed all over the carpet. Cold. So cold.

“Calm down, Miss,” said the Master at Arms. “I don’t want to use too much force.”

Father sniffed. He sipped his wine, haughty, then he spoke for the first time.

“I knew we couldn’t trust her as soon as I heard she was a waterbender. Pathetic.”

The Master at Arms quickly put the handcuffs on Katara’s wrists. _Click, click, click._ A familiar sound by now. She looked at Zuko, pleading at him with those blue eyes. Zuko wanted to believe her. She couldn’t have. She couldn’t.

“I was with her the whole time. This is absurd! That doesn’t make any sense.”

Mai walked behind him. Circling him. She whispered smugly:

“She was probably doing it while you were putting your clothes back on, dear.”

Katara’s jaw dropped. She pulled on her handcuffs, walking forward until she was facing Zuko. Until she was right in his face. 

“That little… she must have put it in my pocket! Or Azula did!”

Mai stood on Zuko’s other side. Her jaw clenched, she said:

“Shut up!”

“This isn’t your pocket, though, peasant,” pointed out Azula. She looked at the tag on the jacket and put a cruel smile on her face. A smile Zuko knew well. The kind she’d used when they were children. Playing soldiers of war. “That was reported stolen today.”

Zuko saw Katara swallow. His eyes widened. Was she… Was she admitting? 

“Look, I was going to return it. I…”

“Oh, really?” Mai laughed. “An honest thief, we have an honest thief, here!”

Zuko couldn’t… _couldn’t._ He licked his lips and made his mouth talk.

“Katara?”

Katara’s head spun on her neck. Staring at him. She looked mortified. Zuko blinked. Tears blurred his vision. All he could do was blink furiously.

She’d tricked him. She’d tricked him, she’d tricked him, she’d...

Closing his eyes tight, Zuko looked away.

She’d used him.

“No!” 

The Master at Arms pulled on Katara’s arms. Half-dragging her, half-carrying her. Out the door. Katara tugged on her handcuffs. 

“Don't listen to them... I didn't do this! You know I didn't! Zuko! You know me!”

They took her away.

* * *

Iroh arrived in the chartroom. Men piled around him. Mr. Ismay in his nightclothes, Captain Smith and a few of his trusted officers. Mr. Andrews unrolled a blueprint of the ship’s interior and spread it out on the table. Iroh tugged on his beard as he looked at the blueprint. No one questioned why he was here. Iroh looked like the man he had once been, a man who belonged in a war room. 

“Water fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes,” said Mr. Andrews, his hand travelling down the blueprint, pointing at various parts of the ship’s hull, “... in the forepeak... in all three holds... and in boiler room six.”

“That’s right, sir,” said an officer.

“When can we get underway, do you think?”

Iroh wanted to laugh in Ismay’s face. The man deserved it.

“That’s five compartments,” counted Mr. Andrews, voice getting louder. “She can stay afloat with the first four compartments breached. But not five. _Not_ five. As she goes down by the head the water will spill over the tops of the bulkheads... at E Deck…” His hand travelled along the side of the ship, from compartment to compartment. Iroh felt ill. “... from one... to the next... back and back. There's no stopping it.”

“The pumps…”

Mr. Andrews didn’t let Captain Smith finish.

“The pumps buy you time... but minutes only. From this moment, no matter what we do, _Titanic_ will founder.”

Heavy silence followed that statement. Something from a nightmare.

“But this ship can’t sink!” 

“She is made of iron, sir,” Mr. Andrews cut off Ismay. His voice became quiet once more. “I assure you, she can. And she will. It is a mathematical certainty.”

Captain Smith looked like he’d been gutpunched. Iroh found a seat.

“How much time?” asked Smith.

“An hour. Two at most.”

Iroh’s hand flew to his mouth. He’d expected… He didn’t exactly know what he’d expected. But he hadn’t expected this. The ship… they were…

“And what is he doing here?” asked Ismay, sending Iroh a glance.

Iroh’s eyes landed on Ismay. He rose to his feet. Back straight. Eyes furious.

The Dragon of the West was speaking.

“I thought I might give a passenger’s perspective on this, Mr. Ismay. Everyone, as you do, believes this ship cannot sink. This whole publicity stunt was a foolish endeavour. And I also believe the passengers are the people we should be thinking about first. But we don’t want to create a panic. If we cannot stop this… I’m afraid destiny isn’t on our side.”

Captain Smith nodded at Iroh. He looked… stunned. Still, he asked:

“And how many aboard, Mr. Murdoch?”

Officer Murdoch himself had turned pale. His voice was quiet when he said:

“Two thousand two hundred souls aboard, sir.”

A moment of silence followed. Heavy with fear, with dread, with shattered dreams and with shock. A mixture of all these things appeared on the men’s faces. 

Captain Smith turned to Ismay. 

“I believe you may get your headlines, Mr. Ismay.”

Iroh settled down in his seat once more. He buried his face in his hands. They were sinking. This entire ship was sinking. What to do, what to do? 

Then, Iroh shot up to his feet. 

Zuko. He had to find Zuko.

* * *

Zuko sunk in on himself. Silent weighed down on him. He was alone with Mai, now. Azula, Father and the steward had left them a moment ago. To get dressed or to go do whatever they had to do, as they had mentioned. Zuko didn’t particularly care. His hands reached for his hair. Gripping it tight. Everything was crashing down around him. His dreams, his new life and love were turning to dust.

This couldn’t be real. Not her. 

No, no, no, not her. 

Not Katara.

That was the only thought that was going through his mind. Everything else felt foggy at the edges. Unreal. No, no, no. Not Katara. Over and over and over again. Not Katara, not Katara, not Katara. She couldn’t have. Not when they had planned to run away. Not when she’d been so kind and open and honest. With her moonlit smiles and beautiful laughter. 

_I’m with you in_ that _as I’m with you in all things. Right?_

Zuko dropped his hands. He couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real. Not her. 

Not Katara.

Mai walked over to him. Her footsteps were quiet on the carpet.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you. And I thought that peasant girl was the one eager to spread her legs. But no. _You’re_ the little slut around here, aren’t you?”

Zuko didn’t answer. He kept his eyes on the ground, like he’d been taught. He was in the wrong. He knew it. He’d made his choice, he’d gone to _her_. But he couldn’t bear thinking about a life lived in misery. Not with Mai. Not without...

Mai opened her mouth. Closed it. 

She slapped him. 

Pain burst in his scarred cheek. Zuko’s head spun on his neck. The air was knocked out of his lungs. Breathe, he had to _breathe._ He breathed in. He breathed out. His hand flew to his face as if on its own accord. Zuko blinked.

It hurt. It hurt so _bad_. 

But what hurt more was the wound on his heart. 

Zuko didn’t look at Mai. His throat tightened and a rock settled in his stomach. He blinked away the pain. Tears flooded his eyes again. 

This was it. This would be his life now. 

Mai pulled a chair from its corner and dragged it to the middle of the room. She pointed at it. Tightly, she ordered:

“Sit down.”

He did. He dropped in the chair. What else was he supposed to do?

Mai walked to stand in front of him. She didn’t pace. She didn’t fidget. She just stood there. Above him. Towering over him. Mai arched an eyebrow, hands clasped together. She was looking at him… She was looking at him with something like contempt.

“I always knew you were the family disappointment. But this?”

Zuko couldn’t talk. Couldn’t answer. Mai walked out of the room and returned with… a scroll. Zuko’s heart drummed in his chest. The note he’d left her. 

Oh. Right.

The look of pure disgust Mai gave him made his stomach churn. This time, Zuko looked up. Accepting responsibility. Her voice cut through the room’s silence like a knife.

“All I get is a note?”

She unrolled the scroll and started to read. 

“‘Sweetpea, now you can keep us both locked in your safe. Zuko.’ You could have at least looked me in the eye when you ripped out my heart.”

Zuko found his voice again.

“You know why I did it. This isn’t about you. This is about…”

“If you’re going to say, ‘this isn’t about you, this is about me’, save your breath. Do you know what you’ve made of me? The cuckolded woman? Really? How cliché.”

“No. This is about my freedom.”

Mai’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Your freedom?” 

“Yes! I don’t want to be a pawn anymore. I want to be myself.”

“She put those ideas in your head, didn’t she? Pitiful.”

Mai threw the scroll at his head. It spilled out on the floor. Dark ink stark against white paper. Mai threw it with a calm that never betrayed her composure. This wasn’t the same kind of outburst as this morning. This anger was cool. Calm. Collected. A calculated anger. Zuko would have preferred a scene. Screaming. Yelling. He would have preferred anything but this raging calm. That set mouth, those furious glares. 

That slap in the face.

“We tried to warn you,” scoffed Mai. “We tried to warn you about this girl. We warned you that she was going to rob you, that she was only doing this to get money. You think she loved you? She sold you dreams, Zuko. But of course, you didn’t listen. And now here we are. On the brink of this engagement imploding. Crumbling. Because of you.”

Zuko closed his eyes, bowing his head. The flipped table and the knife appeared in his mind. Clear as day. There was a long, excruciatingly long moment of silence. It stretched between them, heavy on his chest. Zuko half-expected Mai to leave, to lock the door behind her. But she didn’t. She stayed there, above him. Staring him down. 

Then, Mai said:

“Actually, no.”

Zuko didn’t lift his head up. He didn’t say anything.

“I’m not walking away from this engagement. Why should I? I don’t have to. _You’re_ going to do the work. Forget this girl. Walk with poise and grace. Be the perfect fiancé. And once we’re married? Do _everything_ I ask of you. Understood?”

“Crystal clear.”

Mai leaned down. Her hand grabbed his chin tight. Clawing at his skin. 

“You look at me when I’m talking to you! Now. Do you understand?”

A knife’s metal flashed into his mind. A memory. But a memory that could become his future very soon. She could… She could…

She could kill him. She could kill him right then and there. 

And they’d probably make it look like an accident.

“I… I, um…!”

Zuko was so scared, his own body betrayed him. His pants felt… tight. All of a sudden. Mai looked down. Zuko’s eyes widened. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no...

“ _Oh._ Are you excited to see me?”

Zuko shook his head. No. No, no, no, no, no…!

This wasn’t excitement. This was fear. 

“Hmph.” Mai’s mouth formed a thin line. She  _ tsk _ ed. “But I bet that peasant girl hit the right spot. She gave you a thrill. Didn’t she?”

Zuko was silent. He couldn’t… He couldn’t talk.

“Answer me!”

“Yes!” Zuko squeaked out his reply. “Yes. It felt different. With her.”

“So you did sleep with her. Was it before or after that drawing?”

“I… Do I have to…?”

“Tell me. _Now._ ”

“After! It was after.”

Zuko’s breaths came out quick and broken. Terrified. Mai’s gaze went down to the hand gripping his chin tight. Then she looked back up at his eyes. She huffed through her nose. Mai was silent for a long moment. Again.

Until she said:

“You broke the rules, I’m going to break them, too.”

 _No._ Zuko realized what she was about to do a second too late. Mai forced a kiss on his lips. She put all her weight against him, pushing him flush against the back of the chair. Zuko’s scream never left his mouth. His body tensed. He didn’t do anything. He _couldn’t_ do anything. Mai’s lips were crushing. Controlling. Demeaning. When Mai forced her tongue in his mouth, Zuko felt himself gag with fear. His hands tried to grab something, _anything_ , to push her off. But they only grasped thin air. 

All he could do was wait and hope she would stop. 

Please. Just _stop!_

When she pulled back, Mai looked him in the eyes. He’d kept them open the entire time. His eyes were wide open. Wide with fear. Her hand grabbed his chin again. She pulled him forward, an inch away from her face. 

“Now. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said, voice cracking. “I understand.”

Mai pointed a razor sharp finger at his chest. Her nail dug into his skin. 

“And don’t ever, _ever_ break up with me again.”

There was a soft knock at the door. Mai dropped his chin. Zuko slumped back in his chair. Limp. His entire body was limp. But not in a good way. No, no, no, not in a good way. His heart drummed in his chest. Zuko willed air into his lungs. Deep breaths. In, out, in… His hand flew to his mouth. His cheek ached and he felt… he felt… he felt disgusted, he felt sick, he felt… he felt _violated_. Every inch of him felt violated.

There it was. That knock again. Mai rose up, clasping her hands together. She stared at the door. The steward from earlier walked in. Mai sneered.

“Get out. We’re busy.”

“Miss,” the steward said with barely a moment of hesitation, “I've been told to ask you to please put on your lifebelt and come up to the boat deck.”

Mai glared at him even harder. “I said not now.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Agni, but it is the Captain’s orders.” The man walked somewhere out of sight and returned with lifebelts. “Now please, dress warmly, it’s quite cold tonight. May I suggest top coats and hats?”

Zuko was barely listening. He kept his hand on his mouth, frozen in place. He closed his eyes tight. No. Not now. He wasn’t going to cry. Not now. Not…

“Not to worry, sir,” said the steward. “I am sure it’s just a precaution.”

Zuko nodded. Right. Just a precaution.

* * *

Iroh followed after Mr. Andrews like a shadow. He wanted to find Zuko. But he also had a feeling he should stay with Mr. Andrews. For now. They’d find Zuko. Sooner or later.

The ocean air shocked Iroh as they stepped outside. Cold. To the bone. Everything was loud out here. From the chimneys roaring to the crewmembers preparing the lifeboats… but it was also impossibly quiet at the same time. The deck was empty except for the crewmembers. Incredibly empty.

“Mr. Wyatt, where are the passengers?” asked Mr. Andrews.

“They've all gone back inside. Too damn cold and noisy for them.”

Mr. Wyatt put a whistle in his mouth. Pointing up, he called to a man overhead:

“You there…!”

Iroh didn’t listen anymore. He looked at Mr. Andrews. The poor man looked paler by the second. He pulled out a silver watch from his pocket. Mr. Andrews looked at the time.

They were taking too much time. Iroh knew it.

Iroh took the lead, this time. He stepped inside the ship’s nearest entrance, entering into some sort of parallel universe. Was this really happening? People were standing around, chatting amicably, while the ship… while the ship was _sinking._ Most of them were even wearing their lifebelts! So why weren’t they concerned?

Maybe it was the band playing. Or maybe it was the stewards’ professionalism.

Avoid a panic, avoid a panic…

“Would you care for a drink, sir?” asked a waiter, walking over with a silver platter full of glasses filled with champagne.

Iroh shook his head. He needed his mind clear.

They were going down with the ship. And he still needed to find Zuko.

* * *

Zuko was handed a coat and a lifebelt and, after he put them on, he found himself dragged along by Mai and Father. Azula was nowhere to be found. Hallway after hallway, he followed. Like a good son. The perfect son. 

They reached the grand staircase, where he’d met Katara before dinner a night or so ago. He could almost picture her in her midnight blue dress saying hi to him while Toph had teased them. He’d heard Toph, but he’d ignored her because he had only eyes for _her._ Zuko kept his head bowed, hair a mess, stomach in a knot. He barely blinked.

“Hey, sonny,” came Molly Brown’s voice from not so far away. She sounded concerned. “You've got us all trussed up and now we're cooling our heels.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” said a young steward. “Let me go and find out.”

He rushed away. Zuko focussed on his breathing. Breathe. _Breathe._

“It’s the Spirits damned English doing everything by the book.” 

Mai avoided a man who almost ran into her. Music filtered in from somewhere. The band was still playing for the passengers. There were many people standing around, chatting, whispering. Most were wearing their lifebelts. Zuko spotted Mrs. Beifong in a corner, looking around. Looking for Toph, maybe. Zuko barely saw her. 

“There’s no need for language, Miss Agni,” said Father. To their maid who was walking behind them, he added: “Go back and turn the heater on in my room, so it won't be too cold when we get back.” 

As an afterthought, he said, voice almost mocking: 

“I mean, I could do it myself. But why would I?”

The maid curtsied and left. Then someone cut in through Zuko’s foggy thoughts. A familiar voice. An alarmed voice. But a familiar one nonetheless.

“Zuko!”

He turned around. Zuko wanted to cry all over again.

“Uncle.”

“Zuko, I need to talk to… Zuko? Are you all right?”

Uncle stared at him. There was nothing but concern written all over his old face. One of Uncle’s hands hovered near Zuko’s cheek. Zuko flinched. 

Iroh’s eyes flashed.

“Who did this to you? Who hurt you? Where’s Katara?”

“I… Uncle. She’s…”

“So you knew he was with that girl, Iroh?” 

Mai’s voice came from behind Zuko. Honeyed. Mocking. Uncle Iroh turned to Mai. Zuko kept his head bowed. He closed his eyes tight. 

“You knew and you didn’t tell us. How… typical.” Mai’s voice was monotone, but he could hear an edge in it. She was probably looking at her nails. “As it so happens, Katara La is now under lock and key. Where she belongs.”

“I’m sorry?”

“She tried to steal the Heart of the Ocean.” 

“What?!”

“Azula found it in her pocket,” whispered Zuko. “I… I showed it to her, I… I…”

“She played him,” said Mai simply. 

Zuko’s eyes snapped open. 

“She played him like a fiddle.” Mai’s sneer burned holes in his back. “Who knew Zuko would be so quick to take his clothes off?”

“That’s enough, Mai,” growled Uncle. He looked incredibly gentle when he turned to Zuko. “They told you she tried to steal it.” His hands, kind yet firm, wrapped around Zuko’s shoulders. Not roughly. But kindly. “Zuko, what do _you_ believe?”

“I… What do I believe…?”

Zuko didn’t have the time to ponder that question. He didn’t have the time to go down that slippery slope. To allow himself… To allow himself to hope. He didn’t have the time. A familiar man appeared behind Uncle Iroh. Mr. Andrews, looking dismayed. Zuko decided he had to avoid Uncle’s question. He couldn’t face what it meant. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when it was so fresh, not when there was so much pressure. 

He couldn’t.

Instead of answering, he walked over to Mr. Andrews as the man was climbing the staircase. Zuko grabbed his wrist. Mr. Andrews turned around. He looked… numb. Not quite numb. There was still that care in his eyes, that kindness. But he looked… distraught.

Zuko had to know.

“I saw the iceberg, Mr. Andrews. And I see it in your eyes. Please tell me the truth.”

Uncle and Mr. Andrews shared a glance. Mr. Andrews looked like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t. Instead, he walked down the staircase and whispered:

“The ship will sink.”

Zuko’s eyes widened.

“You’re certain?”

Uncle nodded. “Yes. In an hour or so, all this will be at the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“What?” asked Mai. 

Zuko barely heard her. His hand found its way to his mouth.

Spirits...

“Please tell only who you must,” continued Mr. Andrews. “I don't want to be responsible for a panic. And get to a boat quickly. Don't wait.” His eyes were grave when he said: “You remember what I told you about the boats, Zuko?”

Zuko’s eyes widened even more. Of course he remembered. He nodded.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you.” 

Zuko watched as Mr. Andrews walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm gonna stop talking about chapter lengths after this because I'm getting redundent, but hey, another long one! Yay!
> 
> I know Mai's behaviour could be controversial especially in this chapter, but honestly, I really wanted to make her the scum of the Earth because, well, spoiler alert, she's gonna get in a lifeboat pretty quickly. So when this idea came to me... it seemed appropriate. Unfortunate, but appropriate.
> 
> Also as far as Zuko and Katara's relationship goes in this chapter, I wanted to emphasize two things: communication and consent. 
> 
> Next week: Things are said, things are realized and things are set right.


	10. Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

* * *

_Found a place to rest my head_

_Never let me go, never let me go_

* * *

Katara couldn’t believe her bad luck. 

She had been handcuffed for the second time in one voyage. This time, though, she was dragged way down below to the Master at Arms’ room. And tied around a pipe. The Master at Arms sent her one pitied glance. Katara rested her head against the pipe and bit back a bitter remark. It was that or falling to her knees. Crying.

How could everything go so wrong so quickly?

“Here you go, young lady,” said the Master at Arms.

Katara barely listened. She had to go back. She had to tell Zuko. She had to make him understand! Katara closed her eyes tight. She hadn’t stolen that diamond, she hadn’t! She could see him, she could see his face, printed on the back of her eyelids. She could still see that pain in his eyes. The way he’d looked at her… the doubt, the betrayal… it made her heart ache. How could they do such a thing to him? How could they be so cruel? He didn’t deserve any of this!

He deserved happiness, love, peace. 

He deserved the world.

“I didn’t do it,” said Katara, looking up. “They lied. And you believed them.”

The Master at Arms rubbed the back of his neck. He cleared his throat.

“Look. I’m sorry. But even if you _didn’t_ steal that necklace… it was found in your pocket. In the pocket of the coat you’d stolen.”

“I told you. I wanted to give it back.”

“That’s still stealing.”

Katara breathed out. Whole body slumping in defeat.

“I just wish I could have told him…”

“Sir?”

The Master at Arms turned around. A crewmember had just barged in through the door. He looked… disarrayed. To say the least. Eyes wide. Scared.

“Yes?”

“You're wanted by the Purser,” said the crewmember. “Urgently.”

Someone else spoke then. A familiar voice. An unfortunately familiar voice.

“Go on. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Azula.

Katara’s eyes landed on her. Azula stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She leaned against the door jamb, a sardonic smile on her face. The Master at Arms excused himself, followed by the crewmember. The door closed behind them. 

They were alone.

* * *

“CQD? Sir?” 

Senior Wireless Officer Jack Phillips looked on, confusion plain on his face, as he watched Captain Smith write… something… on a piece of paper. Was this real? Was Captain Smith really asking him… asking of him, of them, to use the distress call?

Was the situation so dire?

“That’s right. CQD. The distress call.” Captain Smith offered Phillips the piece of paper. Phillips took it with shaking hands. “That’s our position.”

Captain Smith removed his hat. Looking… distressed. To say the least. 

He breathed in. Deeply. Deeply troubled.

“Tell whoever responds,” said Captain Smith briskly, “that we are going down by the head and need immediate assistance.”

Phillips stared. Wha… What?

Captain Smith put his hat back on. With a curt nod, he walked away.

Junior Wireless Operator Harold Bride turned to Phillips. Mouth open.

“Blimey,” said Phillips.

He put on his headphones and started tapping. Communicating.

“Maybe you ought to try that new distress call,” said Bride. “S.O.S.”

Phillips nodded.

“It may be our only chance to use it.”

They were all alone at sea. But maybe… just maybe… someone would come for them. Maybe. That was what Phillips hoped.

* * *

“Right! Start the loading. Women and children!”

They’d stopped at the back of the crowd, in front of the first lifeboat on its way to being launched. Father and Mai stood a little off to the side. She kept sending Zuko glances, but he’d stepped a few feet away. With Uncle. A breeze blew in. Freezing them all to the spot. This looked like a bad dream, a terrible nightmare. The band was playing a tune. Outside. Under the inky black sky. Officers started loading the lifeboats. Others ushered more and more passengers out into the cold night air. The deck was packed. People in lifebelts looked concerned. Mildly distressed. 

They were finally starting to realize something was wrong about this... situation. _Finally._ Someone was holding a little dog, another his luggage. A woman was even barefoot. Zuko stopped paying attention as he bowed his head. 

He mulled over what Uncle had said earlier. About Katara and the Heart of the Ocean. _They_ had told him she had stolen it. What did he believe? Who did he believe?

Did he believe his gut and Katara or Father and Mai?

“My brooch,” said Mai. “I forgot my brooch. I have to get back.”

Father grabbed Mai’s wrist. He twisted it. 

Zuko saw fear in her eyes.

“Stay. Here. Mai.”

She had probably felt fear for the first time in her life.

* * *

Katara spat. At Azula’s feet.

“Well, well, well!” cackled Azula. “I knew you were a waterbender, but I didn’t think you’d lower yourself to spitbending.”

Katara gritted her teeth.

“Leave me alone. Go away.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Azula took a seat at the Master at Arms’ desk. Blue fire appeared at the tip of her finger. Taunting her. Katara leaned her face against the metallic pipe. It was cool against her cheek. The cold settled her. She tried to reach for the water in the pipes, for the water all around, but with her hands and body stuck like this, there was no way she could use her bending for offensive purposes. Not when she faced Azula. 

Instead, Katara focussed on _him_ again. The same thought raced through Katara’s mind. She had to get out of here. She had to find Zuko. Over and over and over again. She had to get out of here. She had to find Zuko. She had to make him realize… had to make him see… They’d put the diamond in her pocket and she would bet everything she had that Azula had done it. 

Why else would she be here?

“Why do you do this?” asked Katara.

Azula looked up. The blue flame flickered on her finger.

“Hm?”

“Why do you treat him like this? He’s your brother.”

“Zuko is weak.” Azula clicked her tongue. “That was always a fact. Father could see it even when we were children. Zuko was never like us. He’s always been a mama’s boy. The runt of the litter. He could barely firebend, struggled with all his lessons, was an all around embarrassment. He still is, honestly.”

“I think he’s sweet. He’s sweet and kind. He respects me. And he deserves respect.”

Azula arched an eyebrow.

“Hm. I never thought I’d meet someone as softhearted as Zuzu. Apart from Iroh, of course. I guess you two do deserve each other. Ironic, really.” Azula arched the other eyebrow and continued: “You think he respects you? Why do you think you’re here?”

“You staged all this.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. You can’t prove it.”

Katara’s lips formed a thin line. Azula wasn’t wrong. Not that she’d ever admit it. No, she wasn’t wrong. Katara couldn’t prove it. She couldn’t prove her innocence. 

She was truly trapped.

They remained in silence for a while. All that while, Azula was eying Katara. Studying her. Like a particularly stubborn riddle she needed to decipher. 

“Why are you here?” asked Katara.

Azula shrugged.

“I just want to be sure you don’t make a run for it. And gathering information is the first step you have to take when you want to know more about your enemy.” 

Azula pursed her lips. 

“So what’s your deal, hm? Katara La? You’re not doing this for nothing.”

“I don’t want your money, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Azula cocked her head to the side. She was silent for another while.

Then, she _tsk_ ed.

“Say I believe you. Why did you do this, then?” A cruel smile spread on her face. Azula tapped her cheek and spoke in long, stretched out syllables. “ Hmmm… Let... me... guess. You made a bet with your little friends in steerage.” 

Katara’s eyes widened. Snuffing her fire out, Azula put her hands behind her head.

“I hope it was worth it. How much did you get? Two bucks to swap spit, five to draw him naked and ten to get in Zuzu’s pants?”

“No!”

Katara pulled on her handcuffs, clanking them against the pipe. _Clang, clang, clang!_

“What is wrong with you people? First Mai, now you? I love him, all right! How is that so hard to understand? Or is it the whole arranged marriage thing? Are you so incapable of believing that you can love someone without any strings attached?”

Azula twirled the little blue flame on her finger again. 

“Feelings are for the weak. You think friendship, family, human connection, you think any of it matters? I don’t have friends. I have assets. Allies. We’re at war, here, La. At war against the world.” 

Azula sniffed. 

“Besides, what were you expecting? He’s well-bred. Compared to you.”

Katara tried to cross her arms over her chest. No good when you were tied around a pipe. So she settled on glaring at Azula instead.

“I wasn’t expecting anything. Do you think I planned any of this?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” 

“Oh, really?” Katara barked a laugh. “You think all this is my grand plan to steal away Zuko Kai, heir to the Kai family? I didn’t know you guys _existed_ four days ago! I won my ticket in a game of poker! I was sleeping under a bridge before this, for Spirits’ sakes! Not everything is calculated!”

“Maybe not, but everything happens for a reason.”

Silence fell around them. Katara wanted nothing more than to punch that grin off Azula’s face. If only anyone but her was here. If only she could send word to Sokka, to Suki, to Toph, to Aang, to Jet, to Zuko, to anyone. She couldn’t stay here.

Katara remembered the iceberg. She remembered the worry on the Captain’s face. On the officers’ faces. On Mr. Andrews’ and Iroh’s faces.

What was happening, up there?

Azula didn’t seem to be finished, though. Examining her nails again, she said:

“You said he respects you. What would _you_ know about respect?”

“You learn a thing or two about that when you’re a woman in this world.”

Azula’s eyes focussed on Katara once more. Deadly focussed. She grinned even more.

“Then you know how hard it is for us to be admired.”

Katara’s eyes flashed. 

“ _We_ are nothing alike.”

Katara and Azula stared each other down.

* * *

Zuko looked away. He looked at the crowd, at the dozens of scared people, gathered all around, gathered in the cold. He looked at them, he looked at them all, at those poor people who were… who were like Mai. Scared. _Human._

Human. Mai was human. She wasn’t infaillible. No one was, no one could be. Wasn’t that why they’d hit that iceberg in the first place? Something - faith? longing? yearning? - flickered in Zuko’s chest. Maybe… just maybe… 

Maybe she’d gotten it wrong. Maybe _he’d_ gotten it wrong.

“Uncle?”

Uncle looked up. He had been… sorrowful, up ‘till now, as he’d been standing next to Zuko. With his hands in his sleeves. Uncle arched an eyebrow. 

“Yes?”

“When I told you… about Katara… you said _they_ told me she did it.”

Uncle nodded. “I said that. Yes.”

“How could you be so sure she…?”

“Didn’t do it?”

Zuko shrugged. Noncommittally. He couldn’t allow himself… Hope sounded too good to be true. Hope _was_ too good to be true.

“A part of it was logic. If she wanted to steal from us, why did she give back the dress and jewels I lent her first? And with professional thieves, things usually start mysteriously disappearing as days go by. But nothing of the sort happened. So why would she take that diamond and _only_ that diamond?”

“That… seems sound.”

“But there was also a part of it that wasn’t logical. Katara… she spoke of you with an honesty I’ve rarely witnessed. She respects you. She _loves_ you. She’d never deceive you.”

“If you say so.”

A moment of silence settled between them. Broken up by shuffling as they were jostled by people growing anxious. The crowd was soothed by the band playing. Playing a cheerful tune. And still Uncle, by Zuko’s side, seemed to have more to say.

“So. When you went to her. How did it go?”

“It went… well. Very well. _Too_ well.”

“I see…!”

There was more jostling in the crowd. And more growing anxiousness.

“We should find another lifeboat,” suggested Father.

So they started to walk away from the rapidly growing crowd, Father and Mai at the front and Zuko and Uncle bringing up the rear, a few steps behind. As they walked, Uncle removed one hand from his sleeves and tugged on his beard. Pensively. He kept shooting Zuko glances. Amused glances. _Annoyingly_ amused glances. 

Zuko couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s never ‘nothing’ with you, Uncle.”

“Ha! You’re not wrong.”

A sly smile spread on Uncle’s face. His eyes twinkled.

“It’s just that… I’m sure it was… _satisfying._ For the both of you.”

Zuko squinted his eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh! Well…” Uncle waved a hand dismissively. His voice turned teasing. Casual. “If there’s anything I know about you, Zuko, it’s that you never do things halfway. And dedication is a commendable quality to possess when it comes to lovemaking.”

Heat cut through the cold, from Zuko’s toes to his flushing face. He gaped at him.

“Uncle!”

Uncle raised his hands defensively. Palms out. “You can’t say that’s not true.”

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. He pouted. Like a child. That definitely wasn’t what he wanted to hear right now. It definitely wasn’t.

Uncle sighed. Looking pained.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be teasing you about this. It was… special for you and Katara and they ruined it. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable. You opened up every part of yourself to her. And now you think it’s all been just a sham.”

Zuko cleared his throat. Salt burned behind his eyes.

“It wasn’t just… physical.”

“I know! Trust me, I know. You love her. Mind, body and soul.”

Zuko dropped his arms. He bowed his head. That was true. And maybe that was exactly what made her betrayal so hard to swallow. So hard to understand.

A warm hand rested on Zuko’s arm. Uncle’s hand. He was smiling.

“So, Zuko. What do _you_ think really happened, tonight?”

Before Zuko could answer, Uncle followed after Father and Mai. Leaving him in the dust.

* * *

Sokka followed after Jet on his way through jam-packed hallways. People were there with luggage, with children, with pets and with loved ones. Some spoke languages Sokka had never heard of and he thought about how scared they must be, stuck in this confusing mess without being able to understand the stewards shouting orders. And they _were_ shouting orders, making tensions grow high. Children covered their ears. Sokka had a feeling they were much more accomodating with the First Class folks, but he didn’t say it.

Behind Sokka, he could hear Toph and Aang, then Momo and Appa. When they walked by a steward offering lifebelts, Jet grabbed one and put it on. Sokka grabbed one for Suki. There wasn’t enough for all of them, so he figured she should have it first. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw Aang wrap another lifebelt around Toph’s shoulders. 

He smiled at that. Those two were good for each other. 

Speaking of good for each other, he wondered how Katara and Zuko were doing.

Well, he didn't really want to know _what_ they were doing. He knew Zuko would never hurt her and Katara was… well, Katara was _Katara_ , and he didn’t want to know what his sister did behind closed doors. But he still wondered if they were okay. He hoped they were.

Sokka’s face broke into a grin when he saw a familiar head of short brown hair.

“Suki!”

Suki spun around towards him, then looked down when he offered her the lifebelt. When Sokka reached her, he realized she was… 

Oh. She was already wearing one. 

At first, he felt… somewhat uncomfortable. Had he done the wrong thing? He wondered that until Suki looked up at him with those eyes. And that smile. Kind. Affectionate. Sokka felt himself melt inside a little. Just a little. Then Sokka blushed at Suki’s quizzical expression. 

“Oh!” He scratched the back of his head, flashing her a wide grin. “I got one for you. I thought maybe… um... maybe you didn’t have one and you needed it. You…”

Sokka’s flow of words was interrupted. Suki wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him. She kissed him full on the mouth. With a chuckle and a smile. His hands immediately found their way to her waist. Holding on to her. Then, Suki pulled back. She stayed there. In his arms. Sokka’s eyes widened. 

“Wha… Wha… whuh…”

“Thank you. You’re too sweet. Now put it on!” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once he’d shouldered the lifebelt, Suki wrapped an arm around Sokka’s and they walked at a brisk pace down the hallway. They reached the foot of a stairwell leading up. A crowd was gathered around closed gates. Locked. Sokka felt his stomach drop.

“Stay calm, please,” said the steward on the other side. Sokka had a distinct feeling they wanted them trapped. “It's not time to go up to the boats yet.”

“Oh yeah?” groaned Jet. “I wonder why.”

“What are we doing, Mummy?”

Sokka looked down. A little boy was standing with his mother. He was looking up at her with big, round, tearful eyes. 

Sokka’s heart broke.

“We're just waiting, dear,” assured the kind-looking woman he’d seen walking the hallways once or twice. She put on her bravest smile. “When they finish putting First Class people in the boats, they'll be startin' with us, and we'll want to be all ready, won't we?”

Sokka swallowed. He really wanted that to be true. But he bet they’d be left to fend for themselves. To be slaughtered. While the rich survived.

And where in the Spirits’ sakes were Katara and Zuko?

* * *

Katara wanted to scream.

She wanted to pull out her handcuffs even if it meant ripping off her hands from the wrists down. She wanted to be free, to find Zuko, to find Sokka, to find Suki or Toph or Aang or Jet. She wanted to know if they were safe, if they were all right. When the ship had started to tip, she didn’t really feel it. But now when she looked through the porthole near the pipe, she could see the water closing in on her.

There must have been some irony in that. A waterbender. Drowned.

With only Azula for company.

Katara sent Azula a glare. She was currently twirling that small blue flame around her index finger and watching it with quite a lot of interest. Katara didn’t understand her. She’d grown up in the same environment as Zuko had. She was literally his sister. Yet where he was loving, awkward, sweet, good-hearted and so gentle, she was all sharp edges, mocking smirks, cruel remarks and ruthlessness. 

What had happened for the two of them to be so different?

But then again, she and Sokka were different in a lot of ways, too.

And Azula had said Zuko was a mama’s boy. So she figured he was a lot like his mother had been, too. So if Zuko had been like his mother, Azula was like her father. Ozai. Katara shivered at the memory of that smile he’d had on his face at dinner the other night. That man didn’t care about anything but himself. 

“What are you thinking about, peasant? Plotting an escape plan?”

“No, I was thinking about your shitty family. And about you.”

Azula stiffened at that. “About me? You know nothing about me.”

“I know _of_ you.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. I know Zuko wasn’t considered a firebender for a long time, you’re a prodigy and your fire is blue. The hottest fire, right? So tell me. How is it that you turned out so cruel? Was it because you were never good enough?”

“Stop it.”

“Ah, that’s it!” 

But when Katara considered it for a moment, she said instead: 

“No. That’s not it. It’s not that you were never good enough. It’s that you never considered _yourself_ good enough. I know girls like you. They walk around thinking everyone is beneath them because it makes them feel powerful. They make others feel lesser because it’s easy, because it’s fun, because they can’t find anything in themselves that would make them proud. You’re one of them. You put down, put down, put down. The last one standing, huh? Pathetic.”

Azula rose to her feet. Balls of blue fire burst from her hands. 

“I said: stop it!”

Feeling bold when she probably didn’t have the right to be, Katara shot back:

“You want to make me stop? Then shut me up!”

“With pleasure, little peasant.” Azula smiled a smug smile. “I’m sure Zuzu would enjoy it if his girlfriend had a matching scar.”

Katara froze.

“What do you mean? Did _you_ do that to him?”

Azula laughed. Her fire was extinguished in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? You aren’t as close as I thought, then.” She sat back down in her chair, feet propped up on the desk. “Let’s just say, Zuzu spoke out of turn. And Father doesn’t like it when people speak out of turn. So, you know.” Azula put her hand over her left eye. Making a mockery of Zuko’s scar. “He decided to remind Zuko of his place.”

Katara pulled on her handcuffs so hard, her arms hurt.

“He did not!”

“Oh, yes, he did. And I’m about to do the same to you.”

Azula rose up. She opened her hand. A ball of fire appeared once more, bright and blue. Bright and blue and hot. So hot. Katara could feel it from a few feet away. She squirmed. Azula grinned. She walked closer, bringing the ball of fire close, too close, to Katara’s face. Dangerous heat flooded her. Katara closed her eyes. Waiting for pain.

It never came.

When she opened her eyes, Katara saw that Azula was looking at the water, over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide. Showing no small amount of fear.

Azula was _scared_. 

“You know... I believe this ship may sink.”

“No kidding,” mumbled Katara.

Azula’s eyes focussed on her. The ball of blue fire was snuffed out.

“I should get going.” Azula spun around. Before she could make one more step, though, she turned around. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She spun around towards Katara. “I've been asked by Mai to give you this small token of our appreciation…”

Katara saw the punch coming before she felt it. Pain burst through her stomach, spreading through her entire torso. She groaned, dropping to her knees as far as the handcuffs would allow. Katara breathed. In and out… In… She shut her eyes. Iron burned on her tongue. Katara didn’t see Azula grab a small key before it disappeared in her pocket. 

“Compliments of Miss Azula Kai.”

Azula sashayed away, sending Katara that satisfied grin before she closed the door.

* * *

As minutes went by, more and more people - women and children _only_ \- were stepping in lifeboats. Officers were lowering them to sea. Zuko could plainly see some boats were half-filled. Some even less than that. He tried not to let his anger get the best of him. _Tried._ But how couldn’t he? There already weren’t enough lifeboats! How could they let them leave while not properly full? Then again, he pondered, with the time it took to lower just one of those lifeboats… perhaps when it was time to get those in steerage to safety… 

It’d be too late.

Zuko thought about Katara. Where was she? How was she?

Zuko jumped when a hiss came from behind him. They all looked up as a light lit up the sky. Some gasped. Awed. A little girl looked up with a smile on her face. As if this was a fireworks show. But if there was anything Zuko knew, it was fire.

Those rockets weren’t fireworks. They were distress flares. 

It dawned on him. Clear as day.

“They’re not all going to make it,” said Uncle.

Zuko shook his head and did nothing more. What else could he do?

* * *

“Captain!”

Junior Wireless Officer Harold Bride found Captain Smith. He trotted after him, while officers came and went. All of them looked disturbed. But not as disturbed as the Captain. The poor man looked like a ghost. A shadow of himself. He looked destroyed. Devastated.

“Carpathia says they're making seventeen knots, full steam for them, sir.”

As Bride stopped his run next to him when they stepped out on the open deck, Captain Smith opened his mouth. Closed it. He breathed out deeply.

“And she's the only one who's responding?”

Bride nodded.

“The only one close, sir. She says they can be here in four hours.”

Smith did a double take. His mouth hung open.

“Four hours?!”

Bride nodded again. What else could he say? Or do? Captain Smith looked at nothing in particular. His jaw was set, his eyes saddened. Looking… troubled. Deeply troubled.

Again. Devastated.

“Thank you, Bride.”

His stomach twisting in a knot, Bride walked away. He hoped it was enough.

It probably wasn’t, though.

* * *

“Come on, you heard the man,” said Molly. “Get in the boat, sister.”

Molly Brown helped Mrs. Beifong in the lifeboat. Zuko couldn’t tear his eyes away from a young couple, crying in each other’s arms. The woman leaned her head against the man’s arms and he whispered words of encouragement in her ear. She didn’t want to let go. She didn’t. But as an officer took her arm and guided her forward, she had to. The woman climbed in the lifeboat. 

A lump formed in Zuko’s throat. For a second he saw another woman in her place. A woman whom he loved more than words could tell. Whom he hoped would have the time to get in one of the lifeboats before… before it was too late.

Katara. He saw Katara.

“Will the lifeboats be seated according to class?” asked Mai, hands clasped together and back straight. Poised. The perfect rich girl. “I hope they're not too crowded.”

Zuko gritted his teeth. 

“Oh, Mai, shut up!”

She looked at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Zuko couldn’t contain himself anymore. He couldn’t repress his feelings anymore. His inner fire roared to life. It couldn’t be stifled. It couldn’t be contained. He was angry. No. He was _furious._ At that iceberg, at Mai, at Azula, at Father, at everyone keeping him away from Katara. 

Zuko shared a glance with Uncle, who was standing off to the side, in silence. Iroh nodded. Fire blew from Zuko’s mouth when he breathed. His skin steamed with anger.

He couldn’t be the compliant son they wanted? Fine.

He didn’t want to be the perfect son. 

Not anymore.

“Don't you get it?! The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats... not enough by half. Half the people on this ship are going to die!”

Silence followed his outburst. People stared. Zuko didn’t care. It needed to be said.

“Not the better half,” pointed out Father.

“Of course not, Ozai. _We_ are up here.” Turning to Zuko, Mai arched an eyebrow. “You know, it’s a pity I didn’t get that drawing. It’ll be worth a lot more by morning.”

Another rocket lit up the sky. It exploded, inciting more gasps from the crowd. 

Zuko stared at Mai. He gaped at her. Had she… Had she really…? Had she _said that?_

Yes. Yes, she had. 

She had _said that._

Zuko blinked. Quickly. He looked down. Everything was becoming clearer by the second. Pieces of a puzzle falling together. 

Azula in the hallway. 

The diamond in Katara’s pocket. 

Mai’s smug anger.

Zuko’s mind wasn’t foggy anymore. He understood. 

He understood _so many things._

It hit him. It hit him _hard._ Like a punch in the gut. Mai was going to survive while Katara was chained up. Below deck. _Mai was going to survive._ She couldn’t have predicted the iceberg, but she could have predicted Katara’s arrest. She had put Katara in jail so that when they’d get to America, she’d become Mai Kai. His controlling wife.

He’d gotten it wrong. 

So wrong.

Mai had done it on purpose.

She’d _framed Katara._

He should have known. He should have known, he should have… No, he _had_ known. He just hadn’t been able to admit it to himself. 

He’d known. He knew.

“Come on, Mai,” Molly said, somewhere far away. “Get in the boat. These are the First Class seats right up here. That's it.”

Mai followed Molly’s instructions. Once she was sitting safely in the lifeboat, she shot Zuko a rare smile. Full of contempt. Zuko felt his stomach churn. Repulsed. _Disgusted._ Bile burned his throat. He’d believed Mai and he’d left Katara to fend for herself and now… and now…!

Spirits, what had he done?

“You unimaginable bitch!”

Mai gaped at him.

“Zuko! What has gotten into you?”

“I’ve had enough of your bullshit!” Zuko removed his lifebelt and slammed it against the deck. As soon as he started, Zuko realized he couldn’t stop. His hands balled into fists at his sides. “I never wanted to marry you, you make me sick to my stomach whenever I look at you! You’re a self-centered, selfish, uncaring, egotistical bitch who never cared about me. You say you love me and then you hit me! You… You threw things at me! You _forced a kiss_ on me! I’m sick of you, I’m sick of this and I don’t want to spend a second in your presence anymore!”

Mai’s jaw touched the floor. She closed her mouth, opened it wide again. Her eyes were wide as saucers. Like a fish gasping for air. 

Zuko stood up straight, chest puffed out, head higher than it had ever been in his entire life. Uncle, standing off to the side, looked at him with wet pride. He smiled a wide grin, eyes sparkling. Zuko stared back at Mai. 

“I’m going to set things right. Farewell, Mai.”

“No! Zuko, I forbid it!”

“I said farewell!”

Zuko started to walk away. He barely heard Mai call after him. No way was he going to listen. He was leaving. More importantly, he was _going_. 

He was going to find Katara.

A snarl came from behind him. Zuko only stopped when an iron grip squeezed his arm. Tight. He was forced to spin around. Golden eyes met the exact same shade of gold. 

Father.

“Where are you going? To her? Is that it? To be a gutter rat to that whore?”

Zuko looked his father in the eyes. He’d never stood up to him. 

Not since he was thirteen.

Not until today.

“You think _I’m_ the gutter rat in this relationship? Think again.”

Father froze. He stared, eyes wide. 

“I’d rather be her whore than your son.”

Father stared at him. As if at a loss for words. Zuko had never seen Father at a _loss_. It only lasted for a second, though. Father bared his teeth.

“No!” 

Father shook him. Hands clawing at Zuko’s shoulders. 

“No, I forbid you from walking away. I forbid you!”

Katara’s face flashed in his mind. Zuko remembered her lesson in spitting on this same deck a few days ago. Why not put it to good use? He hawked saliva down. _HHHNNNK!_... It rolled on his tongue, up to the front, then he took a big breath and…

_PLOOOW!!_

He spat in his father’s face. Spittle dripped down his nose. Father’s jaw dropped. He didn’t talk. He only stared. 

At a loss. Again.

Zuko didn’t take the time to savour his victory. He had a job to do. Zuko tore his arms free from his Father’s slack grip. As he ran away, Zuko called:

“I love you, Uncle!”

Uncle Iroh’s voice was jubilant when he immediately answered:

“I love you too, son!”

Zuko heard Mai call after him again. Twice. 

“Zuko! ZUKO!”

Zuko never looked back.

“Oh, stuff a sock in it, would ya, Mai?” said Molly. “He'll be all right.”

* * *

Katara was going to die.

It hit her suddenly. It hit her harder than Azula’s punch in the gut. She was never going to see her brother again, or Suki or Toph or Aang or even Jet. She was never going to see her Gran-Gran or her Dad again. She was never going to see Zuko again. She’d never get to be a Master waterbender. She was going to spend the last few hours of her life handcuffed to a pipe. 

Then she was going to drown in ice-cold water. 

Alone.

So alone.

Katara clenched her fists so hard, her nails dug into the palm of her hands.

No. She couldn’t lose hope. It was all she had.

She rattled her handcuffs against the pipe. _Cling! Cling! Cling!_

“Can anybody hear me? Help! HELP!”

No one answered. The hallways were quiet. So quiet. Katara put her arms further up the pipe and touched her mother’s necklace. She breathed in deeply. The silence weighed down on her. Katara pushed past her fear. She clanked her handcuffs against the pipe. She called for help again. And again. And again. Until her voice was hoarse.

“Please! Somebody, HELP!”

Again. No one answered.

She was alone.

* * *

Zuko ran.

“Mr. Andrews!”

Zuko almost ran past him, but he stopped at the last second. Mr. Andrews was walking out of a room. He was opening doors, telling people to get up and please, would you please go outside to the deck? Breathing heavily, Zuko ran up to Mr. Andrews, putting himself in the man’s face. He had no time to think. 

Katara was in danger.

“Mr. Andrews, thank the...!” Zuko breathed in. Breathed out. Tried again. “Thank the Spirits! Where would the Master at Arms take someone under arrest?”

Mr. Andrews stared. His whole face frowned. In disbelief.

“What? Why?”

“It’s Katara, sir. Katara La. The… The wonderful woman from dinner the other night? Surely you remember her? You must!”

Mr. Andrews blinked. He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Yes. Yes, I remember.”

“She’s in danger. I have to find her. And I'll do this with or without your help, sir.” 

Zuko swallowed. 

“But without will take longer.”

Mr. Andrews shook his head. As if to clear his head. 

“All right. Listen.”

He wrapped his hand around Zuko’s arm, pulling him along. “Take the elevator to the very bottom. Go left. Down the crewman's passage. Then make a right.” Zuko stared in the man’s eyes. Listening. Carefully. “Did you get all that?”

“Bottom, left, crewman’s passage, right. I got it.”

“Hurry, Zuko.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you, Mr. Andrews!”

Zuko ran away. 

* * *

Everything was going to shit. 

That’s what Katara thought when water poured, inches deep, under the door. Her stomach dropped. Oh, no, oh, no, oh no... 

“Shit.”

She pushed herself against the pipe, making sure it never touched her. When it poured in too close for comfort, she used the little bending she could to push it away. She barely made any waves. Katara could barely do any bending. Not in her awkward position. 

The water was going to come up fast. She was stuck here and she was going to drown.

Katara pulled and pulled and pulled on her handcuffs. Until her skin was raw. 

No good. She was stuck.

“HELP!! SOMEBODY!! Can anybody hear me?!”

* * *

Zuko ran. He ran past the grand staircase, past the few passengers and crewmembers still gathered in the First Class section. He ran.

Zuko ran faster than the Blue Spirit had ever run. He ran until his limbs hurt, until there was nothing left in his mind but his goal. He had to get to Katara. He had to. People gasped when he pushed past them. He barely registered saying sorry.

Zuko made it to the elevator. The operator lifted a palm. Zuko stopped.

Dead in his tracks.

“Sorry, sir. Lifts are closed.”

Zuko gritted his teeth. A now familiar fury came upon him then. He put a hand on the man’s chest and pushed him inside the elevator. Voice loud in his ears, Zuko said:

“I'm through with being polite, Spirits be damned! Now TAKE ME DOWN!”

Without a word, the operator activated the machine. Zuko closed the gate. They started to go down. Slower than Zuko had hoped. Come on, come on, come on… He kept repeating what Mr. Andrews had told him earlier. Bottom, left, crewman’s passage, right. Bottom, left, crewman’s passage, right. Bottom, left, crewman’s passage, right. 

There was a long, long moment of silence. Until...

“Are you looking for the Painted Lady?”

Zuko looked up. He looked at the operator. The man had been eying him for a while and Zuko had barely paid him any attention. But now that he did… It dawned on him. This was the same man who had brought them down when they were fleeing from Azula. Dressed as the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady. Had that been really only a few hours ago? When they’d been so happy? So carefree?

How could things go so wrong so quickly?

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“I hope you find her.”

“Me too.”

Soon enough, they made it to the bottom floor. Zuko gasped. Ice-cold water burst in the elevator, up to their knees. Zuko yelped. It _did_ feel like a thousand knives stabbing him.

Katara had been right.

“I’m going back up!” said the operator, voice shaking with fear and pain.

“NO! No, no, no, no!”

Zuko wrestled with the gate. He opened it and dropped in a foot of water. He barely saw the elevator going back up. Leaving a small waterfall in its wake.

Zuko tried to think. What had Mr. Andrews said again? Left. Crewman’s passage.

He waded left. Zuko pushed through the water, thinking only of her and his destination. There was no one around, no one there. He thought of Katara, down here, trapped and alone. How could he have thought she was the culprit? How?

How could he have trusted them?

He waded past the crewman’s passage. Good, good, good. Almost there. Now, he turned right. Zuko reached a corridor full of doors. _Full_ of doors. Zuko’s heart pounded in his ears. Where was she? Which one was the right door? 

How was he going to find her?

“Katara! KATARA!”

No answer.

He looked around. He was losing hope. Where was she?

“KATARA!!!”

* * *

Katara looked up.

Was that… Was that really…?

Hope sparked like a fire inside her. Yes. Yes, it was! That was Zuko’s voice. She could swear it was. Or was it her mind playing tricks on her? 

“KATARA!!!”

It was him! It was him, it was him, it was him!

She clanked her handcuffs against the metallic pipe. Again and again.

“ZUKO! I’m here! Follow my voice!”

* * *

Zuko was about to start looking through every Spirits-forsaken door in this Spirits-forsaken hallway when he heard a sound. Metal clinking against metal. _Cling! Cling! Cling! Cling! Cling!_ Then came her beautiful voice.

Her beautiful, beautiful voice.

“ZUKO! I’m here! Follow my voice!”

He spun around. Zuko started down the hallway. When he pushed the right door open, a small wave followed. Zuko didn’t care. For a moment, he forgot the sinking ship and the rising water. He could only look at her. There she was. There she was! Katara, Katara, Katara…! She was… She was handcuffed to a pipe. But he couldn’t think about that for now. He didn’t want to, anyway. Zuko’s face broke into a smile. Joy bubbled in his belly. She was there, she was really there, he’d found her! He’d found her! 

“Katara!” 

“Zuko! You… You came back!”

“Oh, Katara…! Katara, Katara, Katara…”

He couldn’t reach her soon enough. Zuko cupped Katara’s face with his hands and he kissed her. He kissed her like she had kissed him when he’d told her he wanted to run away. He kissed her with quick, hasty, urgent kisses. He kissed her with the desperation of a man drowning at sea. Again and again. And Katara kissed him back. Again and again.

Zuko pulled back. Breathing loudly.

He hadn’t thought he’d be able to kiss her ever again.

“I’m so sorry, Katara, I’m so sorry!” He put their foreheads together, looking directly into her eyes. Tears blurred his vision. She was crying, too. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry! I can't believe I listened to them! I’m so sorry!”

“Azula put the diamond in my pocket!”

“I know, I know, I know!”

Zuko threw his arms around her neck, hugging her as tightly as he could with her tied to that pipe. Katara’s head rested in the crook of his neck. For just a second. He lifted her head back up. Zuko kissed her again. One long, sweet, oh so sweet kiss. 

Katara was the first one to pull away.

“Trust me, I… I’m happy to see you too. So, so, _so_ happy. But you’re going to have to do something for me first. All right?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“See if you can find a key for these. Try those drawers. It's a little brass one.”

Zuko nodded. He rushed over to the cabinet. The glass doors creaked open and he started to look. His hands shook, palms running over the clinking keys. No, no, no. Not that one. Not that one either. There was nothing. Not the right key. No, no, no…

“Zuko.” 

Zuko stopped moving. Waiting for Katara to continue.

“Yes?”

“How did you know I didn’t do it?”

Zuko looked over his shoulder. Katara was still hugging that pipe. But that smile was wider on her face now. It reached her blue eyes. Her beautiful, beautiful blue eyes...

“I didn’t,” answered Zuko truthfully. “I just realized I already knew.”

They shared a look. Katara nodded. Zuko returned to his keys. He searched and searched and searched. The bronze key was nowhere to be found. Okay, okay, okay. Think, Zuko, _think._ Where else could that key be? He thrashed the room around. Overturned the now floating desk. Looked through drawers. 

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, _nothing_.

“There’s no key in here.”

Zuko stared at nothing in particular. His hands gripped his hair. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t help her. He felt useless. Completely useless. He’d come down all the way down here to help her… and even now she was still tied to that pipe!

“Zuko. Look at me.”

Her voice was calm. So calm. Soothing. Zuko did. He looked at Katara.

“Yes?”

“It’s okay. You can do this, I know you can.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“You’ll have to go for help.”

“Find help, find help, find help… okay. I need to go find help.”

“I told you. I know you can. Okay? I believe in you.”

“Good, good, good…” 

Zuko waded over to her. He kissed Katara. One more time. Just for good measure. To give himself a little courage. He rested his forehead against hers. Smiling.

“I’ll be right back.”

Katara nodded. With that, Zuko ran off. Wading through cold, cold, cold, _cold_ water. Just as he was going out the door, Zuko heard Katara’s small voice say:

“I’ll be waiting right here.”

Zuko splashed around, trying to find a stairwell up. He eventually found one and was finally, _finally_ able to step out of that water. Zuko’s skin still prickled. He concentrated on his inner fire and tried to warm himself to the bone. It worked, but barely. Zuko ran through corridor after corridor, desperately trying to find help. Trying to find someone. Anyone. 

“Hello? Somebody? We need help!”

A man appeared at the turn of a hallway, suitcases in hand. Hope burst through Zuko’s chest. He’d found someone, he’d found help! But when Zuko tried to stop him, pleading for his help, the man didn’t even seem to hear him. He ran right past Zuko and down the hallway. The man disappeared at the turn of the corner. 

Zuko stopped. He was gone. 

Maybe his only chance for help was gone.

There was a loud groan. Metal straining. The lights flickered. Electricity sparked. Oh. Oh, _no…_ Zuko braced himself. Then the lights went off. Completely off. Pure, unadulterated darkness surrounded him. Fear gripped his insides.

It was the most terrifying few seconds of his life.

Until the lights turned back on. Zuko breathed. Okay. It was over. But he couldn’t give up. Not yet. Zuko started again down the hallway.

“Somebody, please! We need help!”

A steward ran around the corner, holding lifebelts in his hands. He looked… disgruntled. To say the least. The man sent Zuko one stunned look.

“Oh! What are _you_ doing here?”

Zuko opened his mouth to speak. The man didn’t let him start.

“Do you speak English, sir?”

Zuko stopped and stared. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Good, good! You speak English!” The steward grabbed Zuko’s arm, pulling him after him. “Come along, sir, come along…”

“Wait…!” Zuko found his voice again. “We need help!”

“Come on, then. Let's get you topside, sir, that's right.”

When the man talked, Zuko only heard an adult talking to a child.

“No worries, just follow after me.”

“Wait, wait! Spirits… I need your help. There’s a woman, she’s…!”

The steward didn’t listen.

“No need for panic, sir. Come along!”

“No, let me go! You’re going the wrong way! Listen to me!”

He wasn’t listening. And he wasn’t letting go. 

For a moment, all Zuko saw were the hundreds of people who had once been in his life, in Father’s life, in Azula’s life, in Mai’s life. Business partners, allies, acquaintances, gossip fodder. People chatting and never listening to him. Zuko shouted for the man to let him go again. He pulled against him. Again, the steward didn’t listen. Instead, his grip dug deeper into his arm, almost dragging Zuko along down the hallway. 

“Enough!”

Zuko tugged his arm free. 

When the man spun around, Zuko punched him square in the nose.

The steward fell against the wall, face bloodied.

“What is wrong with you?”

A shaking hand reached for his nose. With that, the steward walked away. Ran away. His footsteps echoed in Zuko’s ears. Until they were gone.

Zuko stood there. 

Once again alone. 

So, so, so alone. 

Zuko’s breathing came out hoarse. He was lost. Maybe not lost, per se. He knew how to find Katara again. But what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help her?

A hand reaching for his forehead, Zuko looked around. 

What to do, what to do, _what to do?_

Zuko leaned against the wall. The ship groaned and the lights flickered once again. They were sinking, they didn’t have time! They didn’t have time to find help. He had to act. He had to do it. Quickly. He ran his hands through his hair.

Think, Zuko, _think._

Zuko spun around. 

His eyes found it. A glass case on the wall, with a fire-axe inside. An idea sparked in his mind. Yes. An axe! Determination fueled the fire in him. Zuko grabbed a discarded suitcase and smashed the glass. 

He knew what he had to do.

With the blood red axe above his head, Zuko started down the stairs back to the Master at Arms’ room. He stopped a foot above the water. It would reach his chest when he stepped in. Zuko removed his soaked coat. It would only weigh him down. Then, he closed his eyes. And breathed. 

_Firebending comes from the breath._

Zuko dropped in the water. It felt so cold, a thousand swords slashing at his skin.

Zuko never stopped.

He grabbed onto the overhanging pipes, pushing himself forward in the rapidly flooding hallway. It was a dangerous balancing act, with the axe propped up under his arm. When he waded into the room where Katara was waiting for him, he found her searching eyes. They landed on the axe. Above his head. 

“I’ve found help.”

Katara frowned.

“Are you sure about this?”

“This mustn’t be harder than dao swords, right?”

She didn’t look certain of that. Zuko bit his lip.

“Look. I’ll test it out. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He turned to the tall cabinet and lifted the axe over his head. It slammed into the wood, sending splinters everywhere. Zuko swallowed.

“Now do it again,” encouraged Katara.

He did. And missed by a mile. From nerves or something, he didn’t know.

“Oooo… kaaaay... It’s not… bad.”

Zuko bit his lip. Katara was... _nice_ . But nice wasn’t what Zuko needed to hear. Not bad wasn’t safe. Not bad meant he could hurt Katara. Not bad meant he could tear Katara’s hands off. Not bad meant he could _kill_ Katara. Zuko looked down at the axe in his hands. It almost glowed red, stark against the pale blue water. 

No, no, no, no, no. Not bad wouldn’t do. It simply wouldn’t do.

Zuko weighed his options.

He could try it. He could succeed. But again, if he did, he risked injuring Katara. He could put down the axe and run for help again. But there was no one for miles. And going back and forth would only tire him. He couldn’t allow himself to tire. Not on a sinking ship. So should he try it? Shouldn’t he? Zuko’s shoulders slumped.

To axe or not to axe?

Another idea sparked inside his brain. He spun around.

“Actually? I think I want to try something else.”

Katara looked unsure. Mouth hanging open. Still, she nodded.

“Okay. What do you want to try?”

Zuko put down the axe on the floating desk. As securely as possible. He waded over to Katara, jaw clenched. Zuko stood next to the pipe. He started to rub his hands together. Faster. _Faster_. Heat blossomed in his hands. First step.

The first step for fire.

“Do you know how swords are made?”

Katara nodded. 

“Yeah. Sokka was an apprentice blacksmith, once upon a time.”

“Good. Okay, well, you know how they melt the metal to forge its shape?”

Katara’s whole face opened wide with understanding. It seemed it had dawned on her. She knew what he wanted to do. Zuko was certain of it.

“You want to cut the handcuffs with your firebending?”

Yep. She’d gotten it right.

“You got a better idea?”

“No. No, I think it’s brilliant! Do it! Just… don’t burn my hands off.”

“Come on. Who’s the expert on burn scars around here?”

Katara looked stricken at his lame joke. She grimaced. But she didn’t seem to have time to explain. She shook her hands, rattling the handcuffs against the pipe. Zuko nodded. He stepped forward again, rubbing his hands once more. Cold, it was so cold…

No. He had to concentrate on heat. On his inner fire. Concentrate...

“Zuko,” said Katara. “I trust you. You can do this.”

“All right. Let’s see how this goes.”

Zuko put his palm up. A ball of fire appeared. Orange and yellow flickered off the pipe and created shadows on Katara’s face. Black smoke erupted from the flame. Too strong. Zuko breathed in. Deeply. His fire became smaller and smaller, until it was only a beam of light. The tiniest flame. But a concentrated one.

“Are you ready?”

Katara had been staring at his hand. She looked up from the ball of fire. Her smile grew on her face. A little shaky, maybe. But still there. Warm.

“Yes. I trust you.”

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in… Zuko closed his eyes. Concentrate, concentrate… He couldn’t allow the fire to grow too strong or he could lose control. 

_Control_ . That was it. He had to focus on _control._ Zuko turned his fire against the handcuff’s metal. Right between Katara’s outstretched hands. At the weakest part. For a second, nothing happened. Until orange sparks bloomed from the metal. Katara jumped, but managed to stay steady. The metal hissed. It turned a bright orange, almost red, as it started to melt. The pipe underneath burned black. Zuko felt sweat bead at his brow. He ran his hand along the chain. 

Slow and steady. Slow and steady.

Come on, come on, come on…

Slow and...

_Schling!_

Katara gasped.

The chain fell away. Cut - if a little jaggedly - in two. Katara lifted her hands. Identical smiles spread on their faces. Zuko and Katara laughed at each other.

She was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, you're not being deceived, we went from 14 chapters to 15! *eyes looking left emoji*
> 
> Azula and Uncle Iroh are two of my favourite characters to write, they were so much fun in this chapter!
> 
> For a while I really had Zuko use the axe. But then I thought... hey... he doesn't use his firebending enough. So I did some research on Youtube on how to cut metal using a blowtorch. It's quite satisfying to watch!
> 
> Next week: Coming back up for air.


	11. Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

* * *

_ And the arms of the ocean are carrying me _

_ And all this devotion was rushing out of me _

* * *

“You did it!”

Joy filling her from her toes to the tip of her fingers, Katara wrapped her arms around Zuko’s neck. He’d done it, he’d done it, he’d really done it! She pulled him close, his head resting in the crook of her neck. For just a second. Then, she looked him in the eye.

“I knew you could do it! Now come on, let’s go!”

He took a step back, as if waiting for her. And she knew he was. Without hesitation, Katara dropped in Zuko’s arms. Then, she screeched. 

“SHIT! This is cold!” 

Knives dug into her arms, her legs, her torso, her feet.  _ Everywhere _ . She held onto him. Her hands clenched around his shirt. Zuko’s strong arms steadied her. Always there, always willing to help. Katara righted herself. 

“Shit, shit, shit…!”

Katara swallowed. No. Now wasn’t the time to panic. She recovered quickly from her initial shock. Her body now freed from the pipe, she planted her feet on the ground. She pulled herself in a bending position. Katara breathed in. Breathing in the smells of salt and the cold air. Feeling the water all around her. Sensing its push and pull. Listening to its gurgling. She raised her arms. The water answered her call, flowing safely away in waves. It wasn’t enough for all the water to leave the Master at Arms’ room. It flooded too easily. Yet it was enough that the water didn’t reach their chests anymore. With a chuckle, Zuko wrapped a blissfully warm arm around her neck. He kissed the top of her head.

“You’re incredible, you know that? But don’t do it too often, you need your strength.”

“Don’t worry about my strength. I have plenty.”

They waded out into the hallway. The lights were low, almost nonexistent. Together, they looked at the water flowing freely at the end of the hallway. Rumbles came from under flickering lights. It would be completely flooded soon. There was barely a foot of air left between the water and ceiling. Katara hummed. Maybe with her bending… but then again, Zuko was right. She needed to keep her strength. And even if she did try to bend all this water away… where would it go?

Zuko started to go in the direction where he had left to find the axe, but Katara put a hand on his shoulder. This wouldn’t do. They had to go the other way.

“There’s a stairwell to get us up,” he half-protested.

“Too deep. We gotta find another way out.”

Zuko nodded. Katara took the lead. He followed after her.

* * *

Music. 

Gurgling water.

Talking.

Shouting. Shouted orders. Shouted orders in the dark.

Those were the only sounds Mai heard. Filling her ears. She kept her head bowed, trying not to look at the sinking ship. It wasn’t easy, to say the least. The grandest ship in the world. Rumoured to be unsinkable. And now it was  _ sinking _ .

How ironic. 

Mai tried not to think about what Zuko had said, about how he’d left her behind. Mai’s hands gripped her knees tight. She pulled them to her chest. He’d left her behind for that peasant girl. And now she’d left behind Ozai, she’d left behind Azula. She’d left them all behind. She was going to survive… and yet she felt so alone.

And of course she only had that rude woman to keep her company

“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” said Molly Brown.

Mai almost snorted. 

What else was there to say?

Mai cringed when a hiss filled the inky black sky once again. White light burst above them. Giving everything a ghostly wash. Another distress signal.

They were alone. So impossibly alone.

* * *

Iroh looked out upon the deck. It was getting chaotic up here, with more people piling in boats. Some crewmembers ran, others lowered the lifeboats with shaking hands. Iroh buried his hands in his sleeves. A woman was calling for a lost child. Chatter scattered, energy barely contained. Iroh breathed in. Breathed out. He couldn’t allow himself to grow anxious.

“No, no!”

Iroh looked up. A woman with a flash of gray hair was holding on desperately to whom he assumed was her husband. Iroh’s heart ached. The woman was almost thrown in the boat by one of the crewmembers. She buried her face in her hands as she was lowered to sea.

She was never going to see that man again. 

And she knew it.

Iroh then saw Ozai pushing through the crowd. Looking for Zuko. Possibly.

“Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

Iroh looked out once more at the people - the women and children  _ only _ \- being piled into boats. That was when Azula arrived. Iroh blinked at her. Multiple times. What was she doing here? Why wasn’t she in a lifeboat already?

“He’s not on the starboard side either,” said Azula.

“We're running out of time,” grumbled Ozai. “And this strutting martinet…” He pointed at the officer with his chin. “...isn't letting any men in at all.”

“I’m not going yet. I want to help you.”

“Good. I knew I could count on you, Azula.”

Iroh rolled his eyes. Spirits damned loyalty keeping this Spirits damned family together. At least Zuko had gotten away. Speaking of Zuko, he hoped he was all right. He hoped Katara was all right. He hoped they  _ both  _ were.

“There’s a lifeboat on the other side and the officer is letting men in.”

Iroh looked up at that. Hope sparked in his chest. If they found Zuko… He could...

“Then that's our play. But we're still going to need some insurance. Come on.”

Iroh’s nails dug into his arms, inside his sleeves. He stayed put as they started to walk away. Iroh pulled on his beard pensively. What to do, what to do, what to do? He didn’t want to spend the last few hours of his life with Ozai and Azula. 

Yet if it meant saving Zuko… 

But then again if he strayed too far, maybe Zuko wouldn’t be able to find him later. 

Iroh looked around, face lined with worry.

_ Come on, Zuko, where are you? _

“Please, Ida. Get in the boat.”

Iroh turned around. He stood next to an old couple he’d seen at dinner once or twice. Ida and Isador Strauss. Isador was begging Ida to get in the lifeboat. She shook her head.

“No.” Certainty steadied her voice. “We've been together for forty years, and where you go, I go. Don't argue with me, Isador. You know it does no good.”

He couldn’t argue with her. Isador nodded.

They left soon after, hand in hand.

Iroh closed his eyes for just a moment. He hoped they’d be all right.

* * *

“You ready?”

“Always ready. Come on!”

_ CRASH! _

Shoulders first, they pierced right through a wall. It cracked in a thousand pieces, flying everywhere. Katara and Zuko stumbled upon the widest passageway. Shocked passengers and mildly annoyed stewards stared at them. Wide eyed. Now wasn’t the time to care about stares. Now was the time to find a way out. Katara took Zuko’s hand and started leading him down the hallway. He followed without a word. One steward, it seemed, was more than mildly annoyed, though. He set out to run after them.

“Here you! You'll have to pay for that, you know.” 

His voice immediately grated her nerves. Katara rolled her eyes. They were on a sinking ship, for Spirits sakes! What was wrong with that man?

“That's White Star Line property!”

They both turned around at the same time. 

“SHUT UP!”

* * *

“Will you hold on the boat for a moment? I just have to run back and…!”

The crewmember never let the woman finish.

With a growl, he grabbed her by the waist and physically pushed her in the lifeboat. The woman stared back at him. Face wide open with shock. 

“Stay down!” ordered the man. 

In any other circumstances, Iroh might have laughed. 

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

They were sinking and no one was taking this seriously.

“She’s the last!”

The lifeboat was lowered away.

Tensions were growing high, growing  _ higher  _ by the second. People were pushing, crewmembers were pushing back. Iroh, still pulling down on his beard, started to consider following after Ozai and Azula. Maybe… if he could get to the lifeboat that allowed men in… maybe along the way he’d be able to find Zuko. Maybe.

“Mr. Lightoller!”

Iroh looked up. That voice… He knew that voice. A man arrived, pushing his way through the crowd. A man Iroh knew well by now. Mr. Andrews.

“Why are the boats being launched half full?!”

Lightoller, the officer in charge, lifted his nose up.

“Not now, Mr. Andrews.”

Undeterred, Mr. Andrews pointed out at sea. 

“There! Look…! Twenty or so in a boat built for sixty-five. And I saw one boat with only twelve.” His voice broke on the last word. “ _ Twelve! _ ”

“Well... we were not sure of the weight…!”

“Rubbish!” cut him off Mr. Andrews, face creasing with worry and anger. “They were tested in Belfast with the weight of seventy men!”

Lightoller opened his mouth to protest. Mr. Andrews didn’t let him.

“Now fill these boats properly, Mr. Lightoller! And hurry up, man!”

Lightoller looked out at the lifeboats that were already upon the water. His face opened with shock. It seemed to dawn on him.What he had done. Those people who could have boarded… they wouldn’t be able to. And now… And now…!

“I need more women and children!” called Lightoller, his voice heavy.

Heavy with duty.

* * *

Sokka found a way out. At least, he thought he’d found a way out.

People were gathered around an opening. Some were shouting, looking for loved ones, but most were quiet. Waiting. Sokka pushed his way through the crowd. Crewmembers had opened a large door and cold air was blowing in. Sokka held tight on Suki’s hand as he put his head through the door. Lifeboats were being lowered to sea. Water gurgled, officers shouted and more people screamed. Some lifeboats were going so  _ fast _ . While others weren’t. For a second, Sokka was filled with dread. Were those poor people going to get crushed? 

There was a hissing sound. A distress signal flew into the sky. Light rushed in.

“Get back!” ordered the crewmember who had opened the door. “Get back in there!”

Sokka was pushed backwards. The door closed with a  _ clank! _ Warmth filled Sokka again. Suki pulled him along after her.

They had to find another way out.

It only dawned on Sokka then that this was where he’d boarded with Katara only a few days ago. Had that been  _ only  _ a few days ago?

And Spirits, where was Katara?

* * *

“You can’t keep us locked in here like animals! Spirits, this ship’s sinking!”

“Take only the women and children!”

They were getting closer. She knew it, she knew it, she knew it. The rumbling of a crowd filled her ears. An anxious crowd. Growing anger. Katara turned at the corner of a hallway. Her heart filled with joy. They’d reached a stairwell and had found themselves amongst anxious Third Class people. 

That’s when she saw a familiar wolf tail.

“Sokka! Sokka!”

Sokka spun around. The widest smile she’d ever seen broke his face in half. He ran through the crowd and wrapped his arms around his sister. Katara fought back tears. He was warm, he was strong, he was  _ there _ . For a moment, she recalled the older brother who had helped her get through their mother’s death. The older brother who had made her smile when she cried. And the insufferable older brother who made sexist comments about women and sewing. She held on tight. Back there when she’d been tied against the pipe, she thought she’d never get to see him again.

“Are you okay, Katara?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, now. Zuko found me.”

He looked up.

“Zuko!” 

Sokka gave Zuko a one-armed hug. A “manly” hug, as Sokka would have called it. Sokka smiled that smile again, and he clapped a hand on his shoulder. Suki quickly followed, hugging them both one by one, then Aang, who pushed his way through the crowd, did the same thing. Finally, a high-pitched nickname was shouted in her ears.

“Sugar Queen!”

Katara wrapped Toph in a fierce hug. This whole ship was sinking, but at least they’d all found each other. There was a second of silence there, then... 

“Hey… What’s that on your wrists?”

Toph’s hands grabbed Katara’s shoulders tight, pushing herself away. Toph pulled at her wrists. Her mouth fell open.

“Are those… Are those…!  _ Handcuffs?! _ ”

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.”

Toph opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it. She made a popping sound.

“I wish I could metalbend. I’ve tried practicing, but…”

“You wouldn’t want to crush my wrists.”

“Yeah, no, I wouldn’t.”

“It’s okay, Toph. As long as you’re safe, I’m happy.”

But the joy Katara had felt when she’d seen Sokka quickly faded away when she realized they were still down here. Waiting. She waved her arm at the crowd.

“Why are we here, anyway?”

“The boats are all gone,” said Sokka.

“And we can’t go that way,” finished Suki.

“This whole place is flooding,” said Zuko, his hand grasping Katara’s. “We gotta get up there or we're gonna be gargling saltwater. And we gotta do it  _ fast _ . ” 

“Aren’t you a  _ waterbender _ , Katara?” pointed out Toph. “Can’t you help us with that?”

“Yes, but only for a short amount of time. I can’t protect all of you. I’m… I’m not trained properly. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Katara.”

Katara nodded at Toph. Though that didn’t do much. She turned to Aang, then.

“How are you guys?”

“Could be better,” admitted Aang, grimacing. 

He patted Appa’s head as Momo clung to his shoulder.

Yeah. Could be better. Right.

She turned back to Sokka.

“Where’s Jet?” 

Sokka pointed at the top of the stairwell, where a metal gate was blocking the way. Fury bubbled inside of her. They had locked them in a cage like animals. Katara tried to push her way through the crowd. That only earned herself an elbow to the stomach.

“Ow!”

“Are you okay?” immediately asked Zuko.

“Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”

Katara stayed put. For now.

“Women only, no men, no men!” said a steward.

Terrified people tried to push their way through the gate. A pair of hands - Jet’s maybe? - gripped it. Tight. There was mumbling, shouting, yelling. Anxiety turned to panic. 

“Come on, man! Open the gate!”

Katara thought she saw the steward nod. There was a second of… well, of nothing happening. Then the gate opened. Women and children started to file out of the stairwell. Until men followed after them. Pushing their way through the small opening. Katara held her breath. Tension clawed at her insides. This wasn’t going to end well. The stewards shouted. Scared. One man raised a gun at the ceiling. 

“Get back, get back, you lot! Lock it!”

The gate was closed again. People screamed. Others cried.

They were locked in again.

“Spirits, man,” said Jet, his voice growing more tense and louder with each passing second. “There are women and children down here! Let us up so we can have a chance!”

The men didn’t answer. They were scared, they were scared, and they were just following protocol. But that same protocol was going to get people  _ killed _ . Katara watched as Jet walked all the way back to them. His signature strand of grass was gone. Righteous anger flashed in his eyes. He looked about ready to break something. 

“It’s hopeless, that way,” said Jet.

He said it tersely. Not without a hint of despair.

It was hard. Not to succumb to despair. But Katara had to hold onto hope.

She had to.  _ They  _ had to.

“Well,” Katara said, “whatever we're gonna do, we better do it fast.”

The others nodded at her. Katara lead the way out of the crowd.

* * *

Azula’s eyes flashed when people stood in their way. Stewards jumped aside, letting Father then Azula walk past. As they should. It felt so strange to be in these hallways again. As if nothing was happening. Except for the people wearing lifebelts. Of course. They stalked these hallways. Gilded, luxurious, extravagant. The First Class sections were fit for royalty. Fit for them.  _ They  _ were royalty amongst men. And these peasants needed to know their place. 

Father and Azula walked past the grand staircase. Finally, they made it all the way back to their suite without much issue. Father pushed the door open. Azula walked in afterwards. He hadn’t exactly told her  _ why  _ he needed to be here.

But she didn’t need to be told why.

Azula knew already.

He unlocked the safe. Azula wanted to snicker at that. To think that Mai had been looking through her safe every night to see if everything was still in its place… No matter what Mai had thought, no secret could be kept from the Kais. Including her safe’s combination. There, Father found a sketchbook that didn’t belong there. 

Azula smiled. Oh, he was in for a surprise.

With feigned curiosity, Father flipped through the sketchbook. His eyebrows shot to his hairline. Then Father laughed, eyes closed. He shook his head.

“Zuko, Zuko, Zuko. Always the family disappointment.”

Azula snorted. She agreed to that. 

Father put the sketchbook back in place. He grabbed the Heart of the Ocean and a stack of bills. They rested safely in his pocket when the safe  _ clanked! _ Locked.

“I make my own luck,” he said, turning to her.

Azula smirked. Electricity crackled at her fingertips.

“So do I.”

* * *

Zuko followed Katara down the hallways. His heart ached when they walked past confused people, some looking at signs, others carrying children. A man was changing his baby’s diaper on a steamer trunk. An elderly woman was on the ground. Refusing to get up. Letting into despair. These were people, scared people,  _ good  _ people. Not rats like those from his world believed. He’d known this for a long time, of course, but now he knew his own people were responsible for those who had trapped them down at the bottom of the ship. They had  _ trapped  _ them. Like animals.

What was the point of all that pain? 

Pride? Superiority?

“This way,” said Katara.

Zuko nodded. They turned at a hallway. They walked past a few more confused people, whispering in many languages. They walked past a family speaking - what he presumed - was Arabic as they tried to maneuver their way through the ship with an English-Arabic dictionary. Trying to survive.

“Come on, this way!”

Zuko followed after Katara. Always a step behind.

Finally, their group reached a narrow stairwell. Together, they climbed two decks before reaching another gate. This one was locked, too. Another crowd was gathered around the gate, though it was much smaller than the one in the main hallway. Men were shouting at the stewards to let them out. Zuko wanted to join them in screaming.  _ So badly. _

“Go to the main stairwell with everyone else,” instructed a steward.

He was talking in such a condescending tone… Zuko was only reminded of the other steward who had grabbed his arm earlier. Trying to help poor little children. The steward waved his hands in appeasing gestures. Palms moving up and down.

“It'll all get sorted out there.”

Zuko felt Katara tense at his side. 

That was a lie. A blatant lie. They were lying. They were lying and she knew it. They all did. Zuko watched as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her hands wrapped around the gate. Zuko followed after her and stood by her side.

“Open the gate,” ordered Katara.

“No, ma’am. You need to go back to the main stairwell.”

“Open the gate. Right now!”

“Go back down the main stairwell like I told you!”

Zuko looked at the others. Sokka, Suki, Toph, Aang, Jet… they all looked defeated. Eyes closed, shoulders slumped. Even Momo and Appa looked… sad. Dejected. They couldn’t get out. They were stuck down here. They were  _ trapped _ .

But this was Katara they were talking about.

And Katara never lost hope.

Her nostrils flared. She grabbed the metal bars with her bare hands. Rattling filled Zuko’s ears. She pulled and shook. With all her strength.  _ Violently. _

“SPIRITS BE DAMNED, YOU SON OF A  **_BITCH!_ ** THERE ARE KIDS DOWN HERE!”

Zuko’s mouth hung open. His eyes widened. He stared at her. He’d never seen Katara so furious. Face contorted in self-righteous anger. In _ fury _ .

She looked breathtaking. 

Katara pushed her way to the back of the crowd. She bent down to grab a bench bolted to the floor. It creaked and cracked. But nothing more. Katara pulled on it with all her might. The bench budged, but just a little. Barely. Sokka, Zuko and Suki gathered around her and started to pull on the bench, too. Meanwhile, the steward on the other side of the gate pleaded with them to stop. Toph, Aang and Jet pushed at the crowd. Urging them to separate. To move towards the walls. Leaving the middle of the stairwell empty. Free. 

“Come on, you lot! Move aside, move aside!” ordered Toph.

“What are you doing? Hey, you stop that!”

“You really should have listened to her, man,” said Aang.

“But I can’t let you… no! Don’t do that!”

_ CRACK! _

The bench broke free. Parts of the floor followed after it. Broken. Torn apart. Zuko felt a rush of adrenaline in his veins.

They were doing this. They were doing this!

“Move aside!” Suki called over her shoulder. “Quickly, move aside!”

“It’s okay, you can do this!” answered Toph. “Hurry up!”

Zuko saw Aang grab Appa and Momo and take a few steps back. Katara, Zuko, Sokka and Suki took a step back. Holding the bench perpendicular to the metal gate. Then, on the count of three, they rammed the bench against the gate. 

It rattled, but didn’t give in.

“Again!” ordered Katara.

They took more steps back. Counted to three. And with a growl, they rammed the bench against the metal gate on more time.

This time, they succeeded.

The metal gate fell apart, collapsing outward. 

* * *

“Yeah!” Toph raised a fist in the air. “That was awesome!”

Toph jumped up and down. They were free, they were free, they were free! Those sons of bitches, they’d done it! They’d really done it! But her joy didn’t last long. A rush of people pushed Toph against the gate. With a “wait, let me help!”, Katara helped her cross to the other side. Toph stood aside, pushing herself against the wall.

“Hey, you can’t…!” kept yapping the steward. “You can’t go that way!”

With a “Shut up, man!” Jet socked him in the jaw.

Good for him.

Appa pressed himself against her leg. That was when Toph realized Aang had also walked around the gate. Sokka soon crossed over to the other side and stood next to Toph.

“My sister’s pretty great. Isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s…”

Toph trailed off. An idea had sparked in her mind. Wait. If Katara could… If she could  _ cut through  _ those metal gates…. maybe… maybe she…!

“Wait!”

Toph’s whole face set in determination. Jaw clenched. Mouth forming a line.

She had a plan.

“What?” asked Jet.

“I have a plan.”

She ran away.

“Hey, wait! Toph, where are you going?!”

“Don’t worry, I’m going after her. I’ll get her back!”

Toph heard Katara follow after her. Sure. That was okay. As long as she didn’t slow her down. Or didn’t interfere with her plan. Toph stopped for a moment. She put her hand against the closest wall. Then, she listened. She listened to the ship, she listened to its creaks and groans. It tore her heart apart. Titanic was  _ dying _ . And its metal sung, it spoke to her as it was gasping its dying breaths. 

And Toph listened.

“What do you plan to do?”

“You’ll see in a minute!”

Toph ran again. She guided Katara through the meandering hallways. She turned at a corner. Listened to the ship. Then turned at another corner. They soon found themselves back at the main stairwell they had been in just a few minutes ago. But this time, they were on the other side of the gate. Toph stopped once more. Listening to the metal gate. Toph stomped her foot. Metal cracked and groaned underneath. 

As if she knew what Toph was going to do, Katara called: 

“Step aside, step aside!”

As if in survival mode, the stewards spun around and backed away. A feral smile appeared on Toph’s face. She walked past them and touched the metal gate with her hands. Toph breathed in. She breathed out. She listened to the metal, finding small imperfections inside. The smallest traces of Earth. Her foot slammed down on the ground. 

Toph reached inside the gate. Her hands curled around the metal. 

_ CRACK!  _

She ripped it apart.

Katara grabbed Toph’s arm as chaos followed. She pushed the both of them against the wall. People ran through the gate. Past them. Wind flew in as they ran. Toph smiled.

They were free.

Katara chuckled.

“You couldn’t do that  _ before _ I had to pick up that bench?”

“Well, you know what? That was actually what inspired me to do it. Earthbending is dangerous when you don’t know what you’re doing. You can’t botch the job or you’ll get yourself killed. I’ve practiced metalbending before, but… well...”

Maybe Katara nodded, maybe she didn’t. But there was a second of silence.

Then, she said:

“You didn’t know you could do it.”

Toph shook her head. 

“Nope, I didn’t.”

Katara’s hand squeezed her shoulder. Warm. Comforting. A big sister’s grip. Or at least, Toph hoped that was what a big sister’s grip felt like.

“I knew.” 

Toph turned to where the sound of her voice came.

Katara sounded proud.

“I knew you could do it. You can do anything you set your mind to, Toph.” 

Toph smiled even more. Something prickled behind her eyes.

Pride.

“Now come on. Let’s get back to the others.”

“Aw, yeah. Your boyfriend must be worried sick.”

“You have no idea. And yours too, by the way.”

“Yeah. Mine too.”

* * *

Mai was doing something for the first time in her life.

It definitely wasn’t dealing with being dumped. Mai would get back at Zuko for what he’d said to her. If he made it. She’d smack that grin off his face. For good measure.

No, it wasn’t that.

What Mai was doing for the first time right now was  _ working. _

Being put in the same lifeboat as Molly Brown had its way of doing that to you. When First Class women had complained about rowing, she’d shut them up easily. It would have been hilarious if Mai hadn’t been stuck with them to row. The Beifong woman had laughed, though. An empty kind of laugh. Before picking up her oar. 

So now working was what Mai was doing. Doing a peasant’s job while escaping the most luxurious ship in the world. The unsinkable ship. Sinking.

She still couldn’t quite believe the irony.

Not quite.

Molly’s attention turned to Mai as they rowed side by side. She felt her eyes digging through her skull. Looking for something. Mai didn’t know exactly what. 

“You know you deserve every single thing he said, right, missy?”

Mai’s head snapped around to look at that rude woman. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. What had she just said?

“I’m sorry?”

“He said you  _ hit _ him. He didn’t say you were mean, he didn’t say you were snide, he didn’t say you were scornful. He said that you  _ hit _ him. And he said you threw things at him! Plural! Many things! Oh, and am I also forgetting the part where he said you  _ forced a kiss on him _ ? Don’t you have any shame?”

Mai sniffed.

“I only slapped him  _ once _ .” She shrugged. “And isn't a fiancée entitled to a little something from her future husband every once in a while?”

Molly’s hand reached over to grab Mai’s arm. They looked in each other’s eyes.

“Listen to me, Mai. A woman hitting her man’s just as bad as a man hitting his woman. We just never talk about it ‘cause it’s seen as a sign of weakness on the guy’s part. But it’s not. And no, no one’s  _ entitled _ to anyone’s affections. If they really love you, they’re gonna stay. They’ll want to spend time with you. To listen to you. And you should listen to them in return. Fifty-fifty. If you can’t see that, well! You should be ashamed of yourself.” 

Molly’s hand let go of Mai. She huffed.

“I’m glad Zuko dumped ya. He deserves better than you.”

“What? He deserves a steerage girl?”

“As much as she deserves him. I hope those two are doing all right.”

Molly looked at Titanic again. She squinted her eyes. Thinking. She was  _ thinking.  _ And nothing good came from when Molly Brown was thinking. That was what Mai had learned since being hauled in this lifeboat. 

Molly Brown rose to her feet.

“We have to go back!” she told the officer.

The man’s whole face frowned at her.

“The suction will pull us right down if we don't keep going.”

“We got room for lots more. I say we go back!”

“No! It's our lives now, not theirs. And I'm in charge of this boat! Now row!!”

Molly sat back down. She started to row. But Mai could see a storm brewing behind the woman’s scowl. She was stubborn. Just like Zuko. Just like that peasant girl.

Mai started to row again.

* * *

Iroh pushed any remaining women and children towards the lifeboat. Soon enough, there would only be men standing outside in the cold on this deck.

And Iroh had a feeling Lightoller still wouldn’t let them in.

One woman was thrown in a lifeboat. As the crowd grew agitated, a man was pushed forward. He pushed another woman off the side of the ship. With a shriek, she clung to the lifeboat. She clung for dear life. Others screamed. Terrified.

A crewmember grabbed a long piece of wood and started pushing the men back.

Meanwhile, the woman was grabbed by men on the lower deck and landed on solid ground. Safe and sound. Iroh breathed a sigh of relief.

“Step back, I say!”

People retreated away from Officer Lightoller. He was brandishing a pistol.

“Or I’ll shoot you all like dogs!”

Iroh held his breath.

“Keep orders here! Order, I said! And now…” He turned to another officer, turning his back to the crowd. “Lower this boat.”

“All right. Nobody panic!”

Iroh stayed put. Rooted to the spot.

The clicking sounds coming from Lightoller’s pistol made him uneasy.

* * *

Everything was starting to fall apart.

People were screaming, panic had finally settled in people’s bones. Officers were cutting ropes with pocket knives and almost dropping one lifeboat on top of another. Trying to get as much passengers off the ship. As quickly as possible.

“Stay back!” called an officer.

Ozai huffed. Looking out upon this mess.

“We’re too late,” Ozai told Azula. 

“There are more boats up front,” she said. “Stay with this one. Murdoch. He seems to be quite practical.”

People shouted, screamed, panicked. One lifeboat was almost on top of another. Threatening to crush the passengers underneath. Other passengers desperately tried to jump in from the lower decks. An officer kept shouting “Step back, step back, step back!” Ozai leaned against the railing when he heard gunshots. The officer had taken out his pistol and was ordering them all to step back.  _ Step back! _

Ozai turned to Azula.

“It's starting to fall apart. We don't have much time.”

_ Bark! Yap! Bark! _

People froze. Dogs ran by. Tension was felt all around as it dawned on faces how bad everything...  _ this  _ must be. They had probably released the dogs from the kennels. 

If the dogs were trying to save their hides...

That was when Ozai’s eyes landed on Officer Murdoch, whom Azula had gestured at with a nod of her head. Ozai fell in step with him. The man visibly tensed, but Ozai wouldn’t let him get away with this. He had a plan. A foolproof plan.

“Mr. Murdoch.”

“Mr. Kai.”

“I'm a businessman, as you know, and I have a business proposition for you.”

* * *

Katara lead the way up the stairwell. Up and up and up and up… Footsteps echoed all around. Zuko was right behind her. Followed by Sokka, Suki, Jet, Aang and Toph. Who were followed by Momo and Appa. She pushed a metallic door open and emerged into cold air. Katara breathed in. Burning her lungs. Air, air! She didn’t think she’d be able to see the sky again. Not after being chained to that pipe below deck.

“Wait, Katara!”

Katara spun around. Toph had curled a hand around her arm. She frowned.

“What is it, Toph?”

“Can I try something? I… I think I can do it, now.”

“Um… sure. But what?”

Toph reached for Katara’s wrists. It dawned on Katara then. Earthbending.  _ Metal _ bending. Toph concentrated, mouth firmly set. Toph was calm, impossibly calm. She took a deep, deep breath. Katara saw Zuko look at her from the corner of her eye, as were all the others, but she was only looking at Toph.

“You can do it, Toph,” said Katara. “I know you can.”

“I know I can, too.”

Toph’s fingers formed claws and she pulled. The handcuffs clinked to the floor. Katara couldn’t stop the laugh that came out of her mouth. She wrapped Toph in a hug and lifted her off the ground. Toph laughed, too.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re amazing!”

“I know, I’m the best.” Once Toph’s feet touched the ground, she said: “Come on!”

“Come on?” parroted Sokka. “Where? The boats are gone.”

They looked through the crowded deck. People pushed, ran, tried to live. At that moment, they stumbled upon a man Katara half-remembered being at dinner the other night.

“Colonel!” called Zuko. “Are there any boats left?”

“Yes, sir. There are a couple of boats all the way forward. This way, I'll lead you!”

They didn’t have the time for that. No time to wait or follow him. Katara grabbed Zuko’s hand and ran past the Colonel. Katara pushed her way through the crowd. Come on, come on, move aside, move aside…! Soon enough, they reached the band who were finishing a tune. One of the men, looking rather morose, said:

“What’s the use? No one’s listening anyway.”

“Well, they don’t listen at dinner either,” pointed out another. The violinist. 

The others looked at him. Seemingly not entirely convinced.

“Come on, let’s play,” the man said anyway. “It’ll keep us warm.”

They started to play again. A fast-paced, happy tune Katara didn’t recognize. Their group ran past the band and she sent one of the musicians a nod of gratitude. He nodded back.

“Music to drown by,” said Jet. “Now I know I'm in First Class!”

* * *

“Where is everyone?” asked Murdoch.

He looked around. There wasn't anyone around. The deck was oddly empty. Maybe not empty of passengers, but empty of other officers. Where was everyone else? Perplexed, Murdoch looked down a staircase. An empty staircase. Then, he turned to another sailor. Who told him they were further aloft. Murdoch nodded. He tried to walk past Mr. Kai. 

_ Tried. _

He damn  _ tried,  _ but the man monopolized his personal space.

“We have an understanding, then, Mr. Murdoch?”

He dropped a stash of money in his pocket. Murdoch wanted to laugh. Was that man really serious? He thought money, greed, would save his skin? Murdoch wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t laugh at a passenger. Instead, he gritted his teeth. 

He wanted to say no, he really did. But Mr. Kai wouldn’t take no for an answer. And he didn’t need him circling around him like a hawk. 

Murdoch nodded. Then, he walked away.

* * *

Ozai found himself alone in a somewhat secluded part of the ship, away from the squirming passengers. When Ozai turned, he saw Azula arrive. She looked… grim. 

There was no smirk on that face.

“I found Zuko on the other side of the ship. With  _ her _ .”

Ozai opened his mouth. Closed it. 

“All right.”

* * *

Murdoch looked around, his arms raised above his head. Come on, come on, come on, was there anyone else who had to get in this lifeboat? Come on...

“Any more women and children?” he called.

“They’re all aboard, Mr. Murdoch,” answered Bruce Ismay. “Except for that one.”

He’d pointed at Mr. Kai’s daughter. She looked at her father. 

“Anyone else, then? Anyone else?”

He exchanged a glance with Mr. Kai. The man shook his head.

“Fire!”

Another distress signal hissed into the sky. Murdoch couldn’t help the thought that came through his mind. The more distress signals were sent, the less likely someone was there to see them. But it was protocol. And he wasn’t there to question protocol. 

Murdoch helped the last few passengers in. Until he turned to… Bruce Ismay. Who had climbed into the boat. Murdoch froze.

“Ready on the left?”

He was silent for a moment. Then Murdoch raised his arms.

“Take them down.”

* * *

Zuko, Katara and the others reached the other side of the ship. They’d found a lifeboat. Zuko breathed out in relief. Finally,  _ finally,  _ they’d found a lifeboat. A little girl was currently being hoisted in by a crewmember. When others tried to follow after her, an officer lifted his pistol up in the air. He shot three times in the sky. 

People screamed. Zuko covered his ears. 

When Zuko looked up, his hands fell away from either side of his head. His face broke into a smile. A familiar old man was pushing his way through the crowd.

“Uncle!”

“Zuko! I’m so happy to see you!”

He wrapped him in a strong hug. Zuko closed his eyes. He breathed him in. Uncle smelled of home. He smelled of home and of jasmine tea. He smelled  _ safe _ . Uncle turned to Katara and hugged her, then with a jovial “Miss Toph!” he pulled her to him. Toph almost disappeared under the fabric of his sleeves. 

“I’m so happy you found each other.”

“I’m so happy we found  _ you _ .”

Zuko looked at Uncle. He looked at this man who had supported him for so long. To whom he owed his life, really. Who had picked up the pieces of the broken boy he had once been, who had made him the man he was now. Zuko looked at the only man who had ever been a father to him. A real father.

What else could Zuko say other than…?

“I could only do it thanks to you, Dad.”

Uncle’s whole face opened with surprise. Mouth hanging open, eyes wide. They stared at each other for what Zuko felt was a long time. But it was only a few seconds. 

Uncle pulled him into a hug again. 

“I knew you had it in you all along, son. I only pushed you in the right direction.”

Someone put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. He looked up.

It was Katara.

“Can we join you?”

Iroh chuckled. “Of course, of course! Come here!”

Soon enough, they were all wrapped in a hug. A tangle of limbs. Zuko, Uncle, Katara, Aang, Toph, Sokka, Suki, Jet. Even Momo and Appa clung to their legs. Celebrating the fact that they were alive. And that they’d found each other. Even if for just a moment.

They didn’t have much time to celebrate, unfortunately. 

Chaos fell on their side of the ship. A man was propping up another woman to put her in the lifeboat. When he tried to jump on there after her, one of the officers raised his gun. He shot at the sky again. A woman screamed. Uncle pulled them down. Away from the bullet.

“Women and children only!”

They had to separate, not long after. People pushed, shoved, elbowed. The officers called for order once again. The crowd settled. Barely. Zuko’s hand found its way to Katara’s. He gripped her hand. Tight. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. 

It would be time to leave soon.

Time to divide.

They knew it.

Two little girls cried as they were separated from their father. He tried to cheer them up. It wasn’t working. They didn’t believe him.

“Goodbye for a little while. Just for a little while. Go on! Go with Mummy.”

They hugged their mother tight. 

“Hold Mummy’s hand and be a good girl. That's right.”

He didn’t put anyone at ease. Not at that moment.

An officer pointed at Toph.

This was it.

“Toph? I think it’s time to go.”

Zuko sent Toph a glance. She wrapped her arms around Aang’s neck. Holding steadfast. Holding tight. So tight he was afraid she'd crush him.

“It’s gonna be okay, don’t worry,” whispered Aang. “You’re going.”

“I’m not taking orders from you, Aang.”

She didn’t call him Twinkle Toes. Zuko knew Toph was trying to sound strong. 

But her voice cracked.

“I’m not ordering you to do anything.” Aang offered her a smile. “Okay? Do what you want. But I’d really, really want you to get in the boat. All right?”

“I think it would be a wise decision, Miss Toph,” said Uncle.

There was a moment when Zuko feared she would say no. But then...

“... All right.”

Toph climbed on board. Aang whispered something that Zuko couldn’t catch, then he walked away, saying he wanted to find another lifeboat for himself on the other side. Appa and Momo were close behind him. Jet followed after them. In the lifeboat, Toph looked like she was about to burst into tears. Then she stopped and turned around.

“No, no, wait!”

“Toph,” whispered Zuko.

Toph didn’t listen. She turned to look in their general direction. 

“Let my grandpa in.”

Zuko took in a sharp breath. His heart tightened in his chest. 

Was she… Was she trying to…?

“It’s women and children only, ma’am,” answered the officer automatically.

“ _ Please!  _ He’s all I have left.” Toph waved her hand towards Uncle. Her voice came out in splintering sobs. She was crying now. “I’m… I’m a  _ blind _ girl, sir. Do you really want to leave a blind girl to go fend for herself? He’s all I have left! And if… if you don’t allow him to stay, well, I’m jumping off this boat and we’re both going to drown! There’s some room. We can move aside and make him fit.”

A knot twisted in Zuko’s throat. 

Was she… 

Was she really pulling out the blind card to save his uncle?

“No, no, no,” immediately said Uncle. He looked at Zuko and put his hand on his shoulder. “I can’t possibly... let this young man take my place! I…”

“You shut up, old man!” Toph cut him off. “You shut up and you get in this lifeboat! Right now!”

“No, YOU shut up!” 

Zuko stiffened. Uncle never raised his voice. _ Never. _

“Toph, listen to me. I’m not going to climb in that boat. I’ve lived a long, happy life. Someone else will take my place. You will be safe, Toph. I can’t do this.”

“But…”

“What did I tell you, this morning, when you asked me about pouring tea?”

Toph’s mouth hung open. She seemed to search for words for a moment. As the officer seemed impatient next to her. Then, Toph said:

“You did it because you wanted to and for no other reason.”

“That’s right.” Uncle’s voice grew soft, his face full of lines. He looked every bit his age, at that moment. “And I’m doing the same thing now. Got it?”

“I…” 

Toph nodded. Resolute.

“Got it.”

Zuko wanted to cry. His uncle was… he was going to…! He pushed that thought away when he saw Katara share a glance with her brother. Sokka pulled her into a hug.

“Say hi to Gran-Gran, Dad and Bato for me, okay? Baby sis?”

Katara smiled. Though it was a wet kind of smile.

“You tell them yourself. Jerk brother.”

When Sokka pulled away, Zuko saw him take a deep, deep breath. Then he turned to Zuko. Looking at him with a wide, wide smile. Almost too wide.

“What did I tell you? Earlier today?”

Zuko stared. He racked his brain… but he didn’t have the time to remember just what he was talking about. Sokka spoke again.

“I trust you.”

Zuko nodded. Then Sokka nodded. Then, he turned to…

“Suki?” 

“You know I’m staying with you.”

“But…”

She rested her hand against his chest. Kind, yet firm.

“You can never change my mind, Sokka La. You know that. Right?”

“I… I do know. I do.”

Sokka sent Zuko another glance. They nodded at each other. Once again. After one last hug with Katara, Sokka left with Suki. Looking… shaken. Yet happy. 

Then, the officer pointed at Katara. Her face grew tense as she looked at him. 

This was it. 

Her time to board. 

Zuko took in a deep breath. He put his face close to hers.

“Katara, you have to go.”

“I’m not going without you.”

Zuko wanted to scream. But that wouldn’t help. It would only make her more stubborn.

“No, no, no.” Zuko’s voice was soft, but firm. “Get in the boat.  _ Now. _ ”

“No, Zuko. No, I’m not going.”

“Katara, please. Get in the boat.”

“Yes, you should get in the boat,” said another voice.

Zuko froze. His stomach knotted, cold as ice, colder than the water way below deck. He turned around. Father and Azula were walking towards them. Zuko put himself between Katara and his father. Shielding her from him. But Katara only moved aside to stand next to him. Stubborn. He huffed through his nose. She was always so  _ stubborn _ .

That was one of those reasons he loved her, of course.

Father, Azula and Uncle shared a glance.

“Ozai.”

“Iroh.”

“Azula.”

“Uncle.”

Then Father looked Zuko up and down. Zuko gritted his teeth. What was he going to say? Something scathing? Scornful? Zuko was surprised when he said:

“Look at you! Here, put this on.” 

Father removed his coat and gave it to Zuko. 

Surprisingly kind.  _ Suspiciously  _ kind.

Even if Zuko wanted to protest, he still took the coat. At least it wasn’t wet and it was warm. Warmer than Zuko’s coat - the one he’d discarded below deck - had once been.

“You’re never nice. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing! I just want to be nice to my son and his…  _ her _ while we’re dying.”

“Hm, hm.”

Zuko turned to Katara.

“Here, put on the coat.”

“No, you put it on. It’ll only weigh me down.”

With a sigh, Zuko shouldered the coat. If he did something she wanted, maybe Katara would do something he wanted in return. Maybe. Just maybe. 

“Quickly, ladies. Step into the boat. Hurry, please!”

“Go on,” urged Zuko on. “Now don’t worry about me. I’ll take the next one. I’ll be with Uncle. I’ll be fine.”

“No. I’m not going.”

Father looked around. Then, he leaned close to Zuko and Katara. 

“There is a boat on the other side that is allowing men in. Zuko, Iroh, Azula and I can get off safely. All of us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Katara…” Zuko breathed in. Breathed out. “I'll be alright. Hurry up so we can get going. We got our own boat to catch.”

“Aren’t you coming, Miss?” asked the officer standing in the lifeboat.

Katara opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it.

“... No.”

Katara spun around. She rounded on the officer. 

“I’m a waterbender!”

The man blinked. 

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m a waterbender! I can survive out there. I’m giving him my place. And only to him.” She turned to Zuko, who was looking right back at her. “ _ Only _ to  _ him _ .”

His eyes pleaded with her. No, no, no, no,  _ no… _

“Take him instead of me.”

_ Don’t do this, don’t do this…  _

“But it’s women and children only.”

“I. TOLD. YOU. I’m a waterbender!”

To prove her point, Katara put herself in a bending stance. A ball of water rose up from the ocean into her open palm. It twirled around. The lifeboat’s passengers and the crowd looked at her with oooohs and aaaahs. Zuko didn’t look at anything but her face.

“See?” She cracked a smile and dropped the water overboard. It splashed with a belated sound. Almost comical. Almost. “I’ll be fine. Take him.”

Zuko shook his head. No, no, this wasn’t going the way he wanted… No, no, no...

A pair of hands curled around his shoulders. 

Uncle spun him around. Gentle. Looking at him with kind eyes. Pleading eyes. 

“Zuko… maybe Katara’s right.”

“What?” Zuko’s mouth hung open. “But you  _ just  _ said…”

“I’m old.” Uncle closed his eyes. “And I’m tired.” When he looked again at Zuko, there was nothing but determination in his eyes. “But you’re young. You’re wild, you deserve to be free. Do as Katara says. _ Go. _ ”

“But…”

“Katara will protect me. We’ll be fine. Okay?”

“I…”

Katara put herself in between Uncle and Zuko. He could only look at her.

“You’re going to listen to me, Zuko Kai! Okay? Listen to me. You just saved my life down there. If you hadn’t come for me, I’d be dead. Drowned! A drowned waterbender, can you imagine? Now you’re going to allow me to give you my seat because I’m the waterbender and  _ I  _ can save you now. You saved me. I’m going to save you.”

Father snorted. 

“You’re going to let this girl talk all over you?”

Katara rounded on him. 

“And  _ you _ listen, you piece of sh…”

“Katara!”

“What?”

Zuko swallowed. He squeezed her hand. 

“Okay. I trust you. I’m going.”

Zuko kissed her forehead and stepped in the lifeboat. Women and girls eyed him not with unkindness, but with sympathy. They knew how it felt to be separated. Toph leaned into his side. To the officer, Zuko said: 

“Thank you. And sorry, sir.”

“Don’t thank me! Your girlfriend is scary, boy!”

Zuko sent a look at Katara. He hoped it said everything.

“Yeah, I know.”

There was some fumbling around with the ropes. Then...

“There’s no more room, sir.”

“Good. Get them down.”

The lifeboat shuddered. They were going down.

Toph pushed herself away from Zuko and turned her back to him. Her shoulders shook. He didn’t have to see the tears to know she was crying again. Zuko himself only focussed on Katara. Her hands rested against the railing, Uncle on one side and Father on the other. They were talking. But Zuko couldn’t understand what was being said. 

Katara stopped talking to Father and looked at him. Straight at him. She nodded. He barely saw it; he could only look at those eyes. Those blue eyes. Gleaming with unshed tears. 

They were going down. And down. And down. 

Katara never looked away.

Zuko watched as a life flashed before his eyes. A life where she hadn’t stumbled in his path. A life where she hadn’t found him. A life without her.

At first, he saw himself clinging to the back of the ship. Then, he saw a version of himself - one amongst many, but a version of himself that made one amongst many choices - climbing back over the railing. Refusing to jump but refusing to live. 

He saw his fire die out. 

He saw himself as a man living in fear of everyone and everything. A shadow. A secondary character in his own life. He saw Father’s sneers and Azula’s mocking smirks. 

He saw himself marrying Mai. He saw a shell of himself wade through life, kicked and pushed and shoved. He saw her hitting him; he saw himself hiding the bruises. He saw himself in Mai’s bed. Looking at the ceiling while she did whatever she wanted with him. 

He saw his own reflection in the mirror. Hating itself more and more with each passing day. Zuko saw the barrel of a gun.

Sooner or later, he would have done it.

A distress signal hissed into the sky. It exploded in a burst of light. Falling slowly, oh so slowly, behind Katara’s head. The tears she was shedding now shone like stars. Light outlined her hair, her shoulders, her eyes. She looked ethereal. 

A Spirit on Earth. 

His Painted Lady.

Zuko then saw another life flash before his eyes. He saw a life with her. A life where they both made it off this ship. A life filled with cool days and scorching nights. A life of mutual respect, of listening and being listened to. A life of happiness and laughter and art and wonder. A life of love. A tranquil, happy life. A life with her. 

A life with Katara.

Zuko swallowed hard. He swallowed down the lump in his throat. All that time, during those endless seconds, he kept his eyes on her. On nothing but her.

He blinked. Salt burned his eyes and down his cheeks. 

That was when he realized… 

What was he…? 

What was he _ doing?  _

He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t allow himself to let her go. He  _ couldn’t. _

Zuko chose her. He chose Katara.

Like he always did.

Without fear, without hesitation…

Zuko jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eleven or as I like to call it: The Women Take Charge Chapter!
> 
> I wrestled with myself when it came to Iroh and that lifeboat. It felt right that Toph would """use her blindness""" to her advantage (it's in-character for the show) but it didn't feel right that Iroh would accept that lie. So. Sorry Iroh.
> 
> I know it's not really historically accurate that Zuko would be the one in the lifeboat. I hope this was believable enough, though!
> 
> Next week: Back below decks and a fight for their lives.


	12. Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

* * *

_And the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me_

_But the arms of the ocean delivered me_

* * *

Katara watched as Zuko’s lifeboat started to go down. And down. And down...

“You’re a good liar, Iroh. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Don’t flatter me. I’m almost as good as she is.”

Katara looked at Iroh first, then at Ozai. She looked from brother to brother. It was so strange. To be standing in between these two men who couldn’t be more different. They heavily reminded her of Zuko and Azula. Siblings. Born of fire, but so different. 

Speaking of Azula, Katara could feel her eyes boring holes into her from the back of the crowd. She ignored her. For now. And concentrated on the two men on either side of her.

Iroh was a good man. And Ozai…

Katara never hated anybody. Everyone deserved a chance in her book.

Except Ozai Kai.

That man had been a possessive asshole since she’d met him. She could see it in his eyes, that time on deck when Zuko had introduced her. She’d read him easily. And it had transpired even more at dinner. He was manipulative, arrogant, controlling. Cutthroat. He needed control at all times. Command, authority, power. Causing pain and suffering to those who stood in his path. He needed all those things. To thrive. 

Katara stared at Ozai. Studied him. In silence.

“There’s no…” Iroh cleared his throat. “There’s no arrangement. Is there?”

“Oh, there is. Not that you will benefit much from it.”

Katara gaped at him. Was he actually… Ozai was going to let Iroh die. And for what? Her hands clenched into fists. What an asshole, what a… what a… 

No.

Now that Katara knew what he’d done to Zuko… what he planned to do with Iroh...

He wasn’t just an asshole, now. He was a fucking _monster_.

“But he’s your brother,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Doesn’t matter. If there’s no more room for him, that’s it. Same thing for you.”

Ozai looked Katara in the eyes.

“I always win, Miss La. One way or another.” He shot her a smile. Showing all his teeth. “What? Did you think this story was going to have a happy ending? How naïve.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Whatever you say. It doesn’t make me wrong.”

With a huff through her nose, Katara turned her attention back to Zuko.

Katara watched his lifeboat go down. She watched him in slow motion. Shuddering down and down and down. He was still staring back at her. Staring straight into her, straight in the deepest parts of her. She wanted to look away. She wanted to. But she couldn’t. Her initial bravery was waning, leaving her empty and dejected. She was going to try and survive. She was going to try and find Sokka and the others first, and then it would be all about surviving. But she couldn’t stop herself from thinking…

What if she never saw him again?

Katara blinked when she felt tears gather in her eyes. She listened to the water down below. She tried to concentrate on the ocean’s familiar feeling, that push and pull. She tried to set aside, to _forget_ , that they might never... that he was leaving her.

She tried.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Those eyes couldn’t leave her be. Couldn’t set her free. Time slowed down. For an excruciating moment, they stared at each other. While Zuko went down and Katara stood at the edge. High above. She wasn’t used to being above anyone. Especially not Zuko. It didn’t feel right. He belonged next to her. At her side. 

Then, she saw that spark in his eyes. 

Oh. 

Oh no…!

He got up in the lifeboat. 

“Zuko!”

Too late.

He jumped.

She heard more than felt herself shout:

“ZUKO! What are you _DOING?!_ ”

“ZUKO!” joined in Iroh. “Zuko, no! Stop him!”

He was climbing over the railing. Down below. Katara leaned overboard. 

“NO!”

Again. It was too late. He wasn’t going back in that lifeboat. He wasn’t.

Katara pushed herself off the railing. She shoved aside a man in a bowler hat and started running. But she was stopped. An iron grip ensnared her arm. Pulling her back.

Ozai.

“Let go of me!”

“No! You’re going to stop right there!” He looked enraged, eyes wide and mouth in a snarl. “He’s going to come to his senses and jump back into that lifeboat, you understand? I’m not going to let you go to him. You little…”

_You little whore._

Katara didn’t let him finish. She was tired of being called that.

So. Spirits damned. Tired.

Gritting her teeth, Katara kicked him in the groin.

“ _Oof!_ ”

With that growl, Ozai fell to his knees. Still, his hand kept holding on tight. Clawing at her. How he’d been able to hold on, she didn’t know. Katara stood over him, looking down at him. This felt right. Standing over him. She looked down at this man - this sad excuse for a man - who had treated her like an insect that needed to be squashed quickly from the beginning. From the very beginning.

He deserved worse. Ozai deserved so much worse.

“Call me that again.”

But Ozai didn’t seem to be done. It seemed like he was only getting started. He got to his feet again. His hand twisted her arm tight. As if he wanted to pull her down this time.

He never had the chance.

“Let go of her!”

A body tackled Ozai. They fell to the floor.

Iroh.

“Iroh?” Katara gaped at him. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Go, Katara! I’ll keep him busy! Go!”

Katara didn’t need to be told twice. She ran. She ran before Azula or anyone else could stop her. She ran past people, pushing her way through the crowd. Her limbs strained against the cold night air, lungs already on fire. She focussed on him. For a moment, she forgot all about Ozai, all about Iroh, all about Sokka and the others. She couldn’t think for a second about anything but Zuko. What was he doing? Tui and La, what had he _done?_

He’d chosen her. He’d _chosen her._

But at what cost?

Still, joy burst into her at the thought of holding him in her arms again.

Katara pushed open the glass doors leading to the grand staircase. She ran past the clock. She ran, she ran… Faster! Come on! She had to go _faster._ Katara practically flew down the stairs. She watched as Zuko pushed through the doors. More and more tears flooded her cheeks. He was here, he was here! So close, but so far... Just a few steps, just a few… 

Katara had half a thought that this was where they’d met at dinner the other night. But all she could really see was him, running towards her. 

Katara made it to the bottom of the staircase.

“Katara!”

“Zuko!”

They collapsed into each other’s arms. 

He wrapped his arms around her. Achingly. Desperately. He felt warm, soft, strong. They almost fell to the floor upon impact, but Katara managed to keep them both upright. She was kissing him before she really knew it. His temple, his cheeks, his mouth.

“Zuko! Why did you do that?” She kissed him again. Then her hands gripped his face. And she looked him in the eyes. “Why did you...? Why the _fuck_ did you do that?! Why?!”

She rested her forehead against his. Breathe. _Breathe._ She had to _breathe._

“What’s wrong with you?!”

“I’m not sorry I did it. I had to.”

“But… _why?!_ ”

Zuko didn’t answer. He only gave her that smile. His whole face was creased with lines of worry. His foolish, beautiful face. Katara kissed him, again and again and again. Quick, hasty, urgent kisses. His lips were soft but tear-stained, tasting of smoke and flames. 

She thought she’d never get to taste him ever again.

“I couldn’t do it,” he whispered into her. “I couldn’t leave you.”

Then, they looked in each other’s eyes again. 

Zuko’s voice shook. 

“You jump, I jump. Right?”

Katara breathed in. Breathed out. Deeply. 

Of course.

Of course he had to throw her words back in her face. But she wasn’t mad. Not at him. Never at him. She was only terrified. Terrified of the future. Zuko’s hand touched her face. She did the same, rubbing her thumb against his scar.

 _I’m with you in_ that _as I’m with you in all things. Right?_

_You jump, I jumpe. Right?_

Katara managed a smile.

“Right.”

She wrapped her arms around him. Pulling him close. Then she looked at his face once more. His foolish, beautiful face. They kissed again. And again. And again...

* * *

“Let go of me, Iroh!”

“No, I won’t! Leave them alone! I’m not going to let you run around and play king of the castle any longer, Ozai! You’ve done enough for the night!”

Azula buried her face in one hand. Could those two stop bickering for a moment? They had more to worry about than… well. Than _this_. She walked away, leaving Father and Uncle battling it out on their own. She traced back the peasant’s footsteps, strolling past the crowd. People stepped out of her way. Azula pushed the glass doors open.

She watched them from the top of the staircase. 

Urgh. They were kissing, now. 

Azula rolled her eyes.

Typical.

Zuzu had always been so predictable. It was a shame, really. He never thought about himself, never about his own self-preservation, only about others and their ridiculous lives. What could prompt him to care so much? What had made him soft? He was like Mother. He was like Uncle. Softhearted. Weak. He was weak while Azula was forged from steel. Forged from iron, forged through fire. He was weak and she was strong.

That was the moment she saw Father arrive. He pulled down on his coat. Face in a sneer. He looked… discontent. To say the least.

“What happened to Uncle?” asked Azula.

“I punched him in the nose. Left him bloodied. He won’t bother us for now.”

“Good.”

He stood next to her and gazed over the railing. Father looked… troubled. 

They listened. They listened as voices reached them. From way down below.

“I had to choose you. That’s all… I… I couldn’t do anything else,” said Zuko. “That’s all I can do. I choose you. I’d choose you every day.”

“It’s all right, Zuko. It’s all right. Don’t think about it. It’s done. It’s all right.”

Azula looked up at Father. He still looked troubled. She grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away from that mess of a scene. They started to walk away. But she knew.

She saw it all in Father’s eyes. She saw it in the way he stood. Head bowed, torso falling forward. Azula knew. He was seeing his entire life slip away like sand between his fingers. He was seeing his breadwinner disappear with a girl below his station. He was seeing his puppet cut its strings. Azula would always stay by his side, she would marry rich and become the daughter he always wanted, but if Zuko ran away, then that meant he didn’t earn a part of Mai’s fortune. And, to make matters worse, he was losing his compliant, submissive heir. Father was losing money and power.

She saw it in his eyes. He wasn’t going to let it happen.

Azula let him go. And Father ran. 

He ran back towards the grand staircase. Azula ran after him. She stood at the railing, standing next to him. A smirk curled the corner of her lips.

She wanted to watch.

Father let out a growl. Annoyed. No. Frustrated. No. _Angered_. Orange light burst from his hand. Large. Wide. And burning hot. People gasped and ran for cover. From the top of the stairs, Father sent a ball of fire hurtling down. 

The La girl saw it first. She looked up over Zuko’s shoulder. Azula saw her eyes widen. She grabbed Zuko and pushed him out of the way. 

_Fwoosh! Crack!_

One of the wooden sculptures’ head was torn right off. It made Azula’s smile become even broader. The ball of fire landed on the floor. Far away. The staircase was covered in soot from where Father’s fire had grazed the expensive wood. Someone hastily started to put it out. Stomping on the flames licking at the floor. It was out in a few seconds.

Father had missed.

La grabbed Zuko by the hand and pulled him along. 

“Come on! Come on, come on, come on! Move!”

Father ran down the stairs. Azula followed after him. He tripped on the fallen sculpture’s head and fell on the landing. Azula bent down to help him, but Father got back up. Quick as lightning. He ran again. Azula’s smile showed all her teeth now.

Father was like her. Insatiable. He loved - he thrived - for the hunt. Father never lost sight of his prey. Them. As he kept running. And running and running. 

“Come on!”

Father shot another ball of fire. Zuko yelped.

Had he gotten to them? No. He’d missed.

Father pushed a man out of the way.

“Move!”

Azula ran past the man.

Zuko and the La girl ran down another flight of stairs, holding onto each other. She kept glancing up at Father, then looking away, then looking up. Almost never losing sight of him. Always gauging where he was. Keeping them out of the way.

How annoying.

Father shot another ball of fire down. Water burst up when it landed at the bottom of the stairs. At the _flooded_ bottom of the stairs. In the dining room.

Zuko and La reached the very bottom of the grand staircase. They didn’t stop when they met the freezing water. 

Azula enjoyed their gasps of pain. It was cold, it was so cold. She could see that. Wasn’t that what he deserved, after disrespecting Father like that? Shouldn’t Zuko die in that peasant girl’s element, when he had turned his back on theirs? 

Fire would always be superior to Water.

La let go of his hand just long enough to push against the water.

It parted around them, leaving them a clear path forward.

Azula sneered. Waterbending. Urgh. What a pain...

“Come on, come on! Never stop running!”

Father fired. Again.

This time, he’d almost hit Zuko. Close. But not close _enough_.

La grabbed Zuko’s hand again. Pulling him along.

Father ran in the water. He shot a ball of fire. And shot and shot and shot...

Azula stopped on the landing. It was over. Zuko and La disappeared in the flooded dining room. Past the doors. Father fired one last useless ball of fire. Then he stopped. Panting. Father and Azula stood there. Alone.

The entire ship groaned. Creaking under its own dying weight. The gurgling water cast strange flickering lights along the walls. Father spat in the water.

“I hope you enjoy your time together!” 

Father looked around. He was waist deep in seawater. One hand on the railing, he pushed himself onto the staircase. Stepping on dry land once again. He looked back at the dining room. Father closed his eyes. His body relaxed. A smile pulled at his lips.

Something erupted from his mouth. A _laugh_. 

He was _laughing._

Azula arched an eyebrow.

“What could possibly be funny?”

He put one hand on his hip. Eyes gleaming with mirth.

“I put the diamond. In the coat.” 

Father’s mouth formed a thin line.

 _Oh_.

Pointing at the dining room with one finger, he finished, voice growing high-pitched on the last few words:

“And I put the coat... on him!”

With a huff, Father ran his hand through his hair. His forehead was beaded with sweat. 

It dawned on Azula, then. 

He wasn’t going to go after them. Father was showing _weakness_. He was old. And he was giving up. Just like that. He wasn’t going to try and get that diamond back. 

“You’re not going after him?”

“What’s the use? I’m not getting myself killed for that rock.”

Azula walked down to the edge of the water. She stared after them.

“I’ll get it.”

Electricity burst at Azula’s fingertips. It crackled blue, impossibly hot. She sent a bolt of lightning in the water. An inverted waterfall shot up. Somewhere, she heard someone scream. The ship groaned like a clap of thunder. 

Azula smiled. She stepped in the water.

She was on the prowl.

* * *

“Are you all right, sir?”

Someone handed Iroh a handkerchief. He wiped at his bloody nose. Ozai had wrestled with him and left him… some time ago. Everything was fuzzy for a moment. The deck spun. Iroh righted himself. Pushing through his dizziness.

“Yes. Yes, I’m all right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Iroh rose up, helped by some friendly passengers. Iroh stumbled, but didn’t fall again. One hand resting on the wall, he found his way to where Ozai had run off to. Where Katara must have found Zuko. At the top of the staircase. Or perhaps at the bottom. But Iroh stood at the top. Not wishing to go down. 

Iroh’s hands grabbed the railing. He looked down. And gasped.

All he found was flickering smoke and the smell of fire.

It was over. 

They were gone.

* * *

Toph had known.

She’d known, she’d known, she’d known. She’d _known_.

She’d known Zuko was going to get himself in trouble. She’d felt it.

His heartbeat couldn’t lie. 

The lifeboat rocked away from the sinking ship, leaving them stranded in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean without any way of knowing whether they were going to be saved. If Katara hadn’t been so chivalrous… maybe then they’d have a waterbender there to help.

But Toph knew. 

She knew Katara would have done the same thing. She would have jumped, too.

They were just the same. Those two foolish, reckless kids. Older than her. And yet.

Toph pulled her knees to her chest. She wasn’t being fair. They were her friends. And they’d made their choices. She hoped they were going to be okay.

She hoped Zuko, Katara, Iroh, Aang, Sokka, Suki, Jet… she hoped they were all going to be all right. That they were going to be okay. And here she was. Leaving them behind. Fleeing the scene. They’d made their choices, just like she’d made her own. They’d all made their choices.

Toph hoped none of them would regret it.

* * *

Zuko and Katara ran. 

He panted. More water flooded around them. This time, Katara didn’t stop to waterbend it away. They had to move. _Fast_ . But it was cold. It was so, so, so _cold…_ His inner fire flickered inside. Everything hurt, his limbs strained with the effort of _running, running, running,_ but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t. Father must be right behind them. Forever chasing them. Or maybe... even _worse_. Azula might be after them. And she never gave up.

Finally, they stepped in a part of the dining room that wasn’t flooded. The floor was angled up and they fought against gravity to continue on their way. To keep running. They ran through the dining room. Somewhat undisturbed. It was a miracle those tables were intact. Silverware and plates still stood on white tablecloths. As if ready for a late evening dinner. As if nothing was happening. 

As if this ship wasn’t sinking.

They reached the end of the dining room. Katara stopped. She wrapped one hand around his arm. Katara looked behind them. Zuko saw the wheels turning in her mind. She had an idea. A possibly brilliant idea. Katara told him:

“Wait.”

Without a word, she locked the doors. 

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

She put a finger to her lips. Then, Katara pulled him down with her, hiding behind a table. That’s when he heard it. The sound of water being waded through. There was someone there. When he glanced over the table, his blood ran cold. He saw her. 

Azula.

* * *

Azula’s fire burned through the cold. Steam rose from the cold water around her. Unfazed, she walked to the door. Her hand curled around the handle. She pulled. 

It didn’t give. 

Locked. 

She spun around. 

Huh.

A spark of electricity flashed, in a corner. Illuminating her. For a split second. Azula looked around, light flickering off her face. She spun around the room. 

Listening. 

“I know you’re there, Zuzu,” taunted Azula in a sing-song voice. “You and that peasant girlfriend of yours. You can’t hide forever, you know.”

Only the gurgling of the water answered her.

Well, well, well.

Let the fun begin.

* * *

Zuko counted the seconds. 

A minute passed. A long, way too long minute that stretched into an eternity. Something touched Zuko’s foot. Water. The dining room was flooding. Little by little. Katara clasped their hands together and crawled around the table to get a better look at Azula.

Electricity sparked. Light hit Katara’s face, illuminating her eyes.

She looked deadly. Deadly and powerful.

When Katara looked at him, Zuko knew she was ready. She put a finger to her lips and motioned at him to stay put with one hand. He nodded and pushed himself against a chair, resting his head against its back. Katara took a look at Azula. When Azula had her back turned to them, Katara slid down the floor to another table. Katara disappeared from sight. 

Azula didn’t see her, but she _heard_ her.

“I know you’re there. Come out, now, little peasant.”

Azula walked over to Zuko’s hiding place. Don’t find him, don’t find him… He held his breath. Of course. _She_ had been the one born lucky. He’d been lucky to be born. 

She found him.

* * *

Azula walked around the table, towering over him. Zuko swallowed. Her mouth stretched in a delighted smile. Eyes flashing. Dangerous. She was enjoying this. Of course, she was enjoying this. If there was anything Azula loved more in life than tormenting Zuzu, it was to win. And when electricity crackled at her fingertips, she knew she’d won.

Water flooded the room, making porcelain clink and float.

Brother and sister faced each other.

“Zuzu. I’ve been looking for you. Say hello to Mother.”

She lifted her hand.

* * *

Zuko’s eyes widened.

This was it. She was going to kill him.

Then he heard it. Whistling.

Time stopped. Something flew in front of her face. Ice. An ice disc. Thin, so thin, Zuko saw Azula’s distorted face through it. Her eyes were wide. Her smirk disappeared.

She was unsettled.

The ice disc smashed against a pillar. Falling to pieces.

Time resumed its course. And everything happened so quickly after that.

Azula froze. Literally. A thick layer of ice creaked and cracked to life, keeping her legs up to her waist in ice. Azula looked down. 

Distracted. 

A roar echoed through the empty dining room.

_Katara._

* * *

Her heart pounding in her ears, Katara pushed herself off the ground. She jumped out from behind a table. Katara tackled Azula by wrapping her arms around her. Ice cracked. Katara pushed Azula away from Zuko with all her strength. Katara’s nails clawed at Azula’s face, scratching and coming out bloodied. She bashed Azula’s head through a windowpane between two columns. The sound of broken glass filled Katara’s ears. 

With a screech, Azula pushed Katara off. She fell to the ground.

Pain erupted through her side. But she pushed herself back up.

Electricity crackled at Azula’s fingertips.

Katara’s eyes widened.

Lightning. She was bending _lightning_.

And she was aiming… she was aiming at…

“No, not him!”

Katara wrapped her arms around Azula once more, angling their bodies so that Azula’s arm was kept up. Hand pointing at the sky.

A shot of lightning cracked in a flash. Illuminating everything and blinding her. Katara closed her eyes. That fire was so hot. Too hot. It pierced through the ceiling. Azula wrestled with Katara, freeing herself from her grip. She took a step back. Breathing heavily. 

They eyed each other.

The ship groaned. 

Katara looked up. Debris and fragments of ceiling were falling. 

She couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t do anything but watch.

That was when she saw...

_Zuko._

* * *

“Watch out!”

Zuko tackled Katara. He wrapped his arms around her, the momentum of their fall pushing them away from the falling debris. They landed in the cold, cold, _cold_ water. For a moment, he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything. Everything was drowned out by seawater. When Zuko’s head broke through the surface, he was still entangled with her.

“What are you doing?!” asked Katara, her voice ringing in the dining room.

“Keeping the ceiling from crushing you.”

“Okay, thank you, I’m not crushed! You can get off me now.”

Zuko let Katara go. 

“Aw. You two are adorable,” mocked Azula. 

Zuko rose from the water. When a ball of blue fire flew at him, Zuko raised his hands. Shielding Katara. He pushed the fire away. It disappeared in a burst of light.

“I can do this.”

Zuko looked at Katara. He frowned.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’ll only distract me. I’ll take her on. Go!”

Nodding, Zuko hid behind another table, crawling on dry land. He rubbed his hands on his arms, trying to keep himself warm. _Come on, inner fire. Come on…_ He was barely able to keep himself warm. It was cold, so Spirits damned cold...

“Aw. You deserve each other,” Azula taunted some more. “Weaklings.”

“We’ll see about that!”

Katara ran. 

And Zuko watched. 

Or, more accurately, he listened.

* * *

With a war cry, Katara tackled Azula. They fell on a table. Tossing, turning, wrestling. Silverware rattled and plates crashed from under them. Katara’s hands grabbed Azula’s wrists. Keeping them always oriented up. Up and away from her face.

“You think you can overpower me? You’re nothing!”

Katara smiled. A brilliant idea came to her mind.

“And you’re going down, bitch! Remember _spit_ bending?”

To punctuate her sentence, Katara spat in Azula’s face. Azula hissed. Caught off guard. When Katara breathed out, the water turned to ice. Freezing Azula’s cheek.

Azula roared. Enraged. 

She clawed at her own face. Breaking apart the ice spit.

Then, they dropped to the floor. Her whole face in a sneer, Azula rose up and pushed Katara. She sucked in a breath at the last second. Before she was thrown from head to toe in the water. White foam bubbled. Katara was floating. She was floating down. But there was no time to lose. Zuko was in danger. _She_ was in danger. A second later, Katara pushed with her feet against the floor. Her head broke through the surface. Panting, Katara walked towards Azula. She put herself in a bending stance. Dripping and shivering. 

They stared each other down.

* * *

Zuko watched.

All he could do was watch.

Katara breathed in. 

Breathed out. 

Azula raised her hand. 

Ready to strike again.

She never had the time. She never had the _chance._

When Katara raised her arms up, a wall of water answered her call. Freezing Azula solid. Freezing _them,_ the both of them. Solid. 

They stood there. 

Stuck in time.

Suddenly, as if from a dream, Zuko remembered Oma and Shu.

Only Azula’s eyes moved, wide and scared. 

Azula was _scared_. 

It didn’t last long. Azula’s inner fire was warming her through, making the ice melt around her. She didn’t have much time. Katara breathed out, melting the water around herself in a second. Then, she rushed forward and tackled Azula. Again.

The wall of ice exploded around them. Falling apart.

One of Katara’s hands gripped Azula’s neck. The other pulled at her hair. With a roar, Katara bashed the back of Azula’s head against a column. Once. Twice. 

Azula went limp. Malleable.

Zuko had never seen Azula be _malleable_. She was hard as a diamond, solid as steel. Azula never lost. Azula would never let herself lose.

But she was. She was losing. To Katara.

Katara who, with a growl, punched Azula in the stomach. Azula bent forward, coughing. All air must have been knocked out of her lungs. Katara grinned. A delighted grin.

She’d fought. And she’d won. And she _loved it._

“Compliments of Miss Katara La.”

He thought Azula was going to say something. She didn’t.

She only fell to her knees in the water. Ahe didn’t get back up. 

Katara had won.

Zuko’s mouth hung open. She’d won, she’d won, she’d won! But there was no time to waste. He snapped out of it. Zuko ran out from his hiding place. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to hug her, but they didn’t have the time. They had to get out of here. Fast. Not only because of the rising water. But also because he knew Azula’s defeat wouldn’t last. She was going to get back up. She was going to try again. So instead, he took her hand. Zuko pulled Katara along, towards the end of the dining room. Away from the cold sea water.

“You’re amazing, you’re astounding, you’re… You’re incredible, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know!”

They reached the end of the dining room.

“Hey! Wait!”

The door was locked. Right.

“Oh. We’re going to have to... Katara!”

She launched herself at the doors. They cracked open, splinters flying everywhere.

A roar came from behind them. Zuko looked over his shoulder. A ball of fire was coming. Right at their heads. He put himself in a bending stance and raised his hand. He brushed blue fire aside. Azula gave out a laugh, more like a broken cackle. Zuko shot a ball of orange fire at Azula. 

She wasn’t expecting it, it seemed. She didn’t deflect. 

She only screeched. Caught off guard. Azula lost her footing. 

She fell in the water.

Zuko grabbed Katara’s arm and pulled her after him. They exited the dining room, running down a narrow hallway. They ran past a cabinet still full of porcelain plates. Reaching a stairwell. Zuko went down. They stopped at a corner and leaned against the wall. 

Panting.

Breathe. Just _breathe._

He heard Azula’s footsteps. She was right behind them, following them. Dripping wet. He heard her breathing, loud and angered. Loud and burning. An uncontrolled fire. Zuko held his breath. She came into view. Makeup smeared, mouth in a sneer, fists clenched. Her whole body was coiled tight. A hunter. Ready to pounce on her prey.

But Azula never saw them. She _never_ saw them.

She went up the stairwell.

Zuko breathed out in relief. He rested his head against the metal wall.

They were free.

* * *

Toph would have realized it sooner or later.

It hit her suddenly. It hit like the cold had hit her upon stepping out into the night air. It hit her like a slap in the face, like a punch to the stomach. It hit her and crushed her, like a rock she couldn’t lift. Like a rock weighing down on her stomach, on her heart. It hit her and broke her heart. A daughter’s heart. A wronged daughter’s heart.

Her mother had left her.

Of course, she had no way of knowing for certain. Her run on the top deck with Katara, Iroh, Zuko Sokka, Suki and Jet had been a mess of panicked heartbeats, a jumble of cries and mumbled anxiety. But Toph knew. If there was one heartbeat in the entire world she’d recognize amongst a thousand, it would be her mother. In her sixteen years of life stuck at home under constant surveillance, she’d come to know it. Her mother’s heartbeat.

And her mother had been nowhere on that ship.

So where else would she be but in a lifeboat already?

She’d left her. Her mother had left her.

Like she’d left her friends.

 _No._ No, Toph wasn’t like her mother. She didn’t want to be like her mother. And she wasn’t. She’d tried to save Iroh, she’d climbed in that lifeboat because Aang had asked her to. Not that he bossed her around. She’d done it on her own accord. 

But now… But now…

Toph buried her face in her knees. She took in deep breaths.

She wasn’t going to cry. Not again. Not that anyone in this lifeboat would judge her. Some were stoic, others were overwhelmed with emotion. She heard a few sniffles, a lot of sobs. Women and children. _Only_ women and children.

How could they separate them? How could they be so cruel?

She wasn’t going to cry. Not again, not again, not again...

But she didn’t know if _any_ of them was going to make it. Or what the future would hold. Once she’d get to safety. If she could get to safety. 

Toph frowned. Distracted from her musings.

Was that… Was there…?

Was someone _poking_ her?

“Your grandpa will be okay.”

Toph lifted her head. It was… one of the little girls. The two little girls and their mother who had been separated from their father.

“What?”

“Your grandpa will be okay.”

“He… He’s not my grandpa. I lied. He’s my friend’s uncle. You know, I’m… I’m actually blind, though. That wasn’t a lie.”

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence. A little awkward. Until Toph said:

“I hope your father will be okay.”

“I hope so too.”

The other little girl pushed her way into this conversation.

“Do you have family out there? Your real family?”

Toph shrugged.

“My dad’s in New York. And... well. There’s my mother. She was with me for the trip. I think she’s in another lifeboat. She left me.”

“Oh.”

Another moment of silence. Then it was their mother who spoke.

“We’ll be your family for a while. What do you say?”

Toph’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. What were they…? What?

“I’m sorry?”

“Come over here.”

Toph scooted over to sit in-between the mother and her two daughters. Their arms and a blanket were wrapped around her shoulders. Well, this… this was nice. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What’s your name?”

“Toph.”

“Nice to meet you, Toph.”

Toph couldn’t help a smile. This was nice. To feel safe.

Maybe not everything was so bad after all.

* * *

Katara closed her eyes. She leaned against the stairwell’s wall. Taking a moment, just a moment, to breathe. A moment of peace. Her breathing came out heavy and hoarse. She was tired. So tired. But she’d done it. She’d succeeded. She’d defeated _Azula_. 

But now they were below deck. Oh. Oh, no, no, no... This was bad. This… This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. Katara retraced their footsteps in her mind. Down the staircase. Through the dining room. And now here. Here in this lonely hallway. Once they were going to get down from the stairwell, cold water would reach up to their shins. 

They weren’t free. They were still trapped.

A scream. She heard a scream. A wail. A desperate wail.

And they weren’t alone.

Katara snapped her eyes open.

Katara walked around Zuko and looked around the corner. Her eyes widened. There was a child. A crying child. A child she knew. Meng. It was Meng! What was she doing down here, standing under the flickering lights in a foot of water? Crying? 

“We can’t leave her,” said Zuko. “Wait. Is that…?”

“Yes. And I know. I know.”

Katara looked around. Water was coming down from the stairwell. Fast. Their way out was blocked. They couldn’t go back there.

“Come on!”

Katara wanted to lead the way, but Zuko was faster, with his long legs. They jumped up and down in the water. Hopping around. Splashing around. Katara didn’t want to waterbend too much; Zuko had been right, she needed all her energy. She still felt bruised and tired from her fight with Azula. But she couldn’t focus on that. She had to focus on surviving.

Zuko picked up Meng. Scooping her up in his arms. One of her arms wrapped itself around his neck automatically. Then, Zuko pointed at himself and Katara. 

“It’s okay, Meng. It’s okay. It’s us.”

When Meng’s eyes fell on her, Katara smiled.

“It’s okay, Meng. You’re with friends, now.”

“Okay… okay.”

“Where’s your aunt?”

“I don’t know. I got lost and now… and now I’m...”

Meng never had the time to finish. A loud rumble groaned. Katara and Zuko looked up. Water was seeping through the wall, at the end of the hallway. They exchanged a look. Without a word, they started to run. They waded through rushing water. As fast as they could. Fast, fast, fast. _Faster_. They needed to be faster! 

When they reached the end of the hallway, they found themselves stuck. Water was pouring down a stairwell at the speed of a roaring waterfall. Blocking their path.

“We have to go back,” instructed Katara.

Zuko nodded. She took the lead. Walking back towards the stairwell they had first come through. As they reached a perpendicular hallway, they saw…

“Aunt Wu!”

Aunt Wu looked around. Panicked. Frantic. Her whole face opened up into a smile when her eyes landed on them. Aunt Wu grabbed Meng and pushed Zuko away. It was as if she wasn’t really seeing them, as if all she could focus on was Meng. Katara couldn’t blame her. Aunt Wu started walking down the hallway from which they had come from. 

But the water was coming up. _Fast_.

Katara and Zuko shared another glance. At the same time, they started to run after Aunt Wu. Calling after her. Pleading with her. Warning her.

“No! No, not that way! No!”

Too late. Water broke through the wall. 

A torrent washed over them, knocking Aunt Wu off her feet. 

Katara put herself in a bending stance. Without thinking. Without hesitation. She tried to bend the water away, but she’d never done something like this before. When she did waterbending with Hama, learning the basics, the water was still. Calm. Like in the dining room. This was an entire river flooding the hallway. Zuko grabbed her arm, pulling her back. 

“No time! Come on!”

They started to run away. Zuko pushed her in the perpendicular hallway. But the water followed after them. Rushing. Roaring. Bellowing.

Zuko screamed her name. She barely heard him.

They didn’t have the time to get far. The water knocked them both off their feet. 

Lights flickered, making it impossible to see or breathe.

Zuko’s grip on her arm loosened. He was gone. Out of her reach. Katara tried to gain her footing, tried to waterbend. She tried to do anything. _Anything._ But she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. All she could do was let herself be washed off. 

One second. Two seconds.

She hit something hard. Katara gasped, head poking above the water.

A metal gate.

Zuko’s body hit her a second later. She tried to look around, tried to look past the water in her eyes. It was dark except for blinding flashes of light. Katara wrapped her hands around the metal gate and pushed, pulled, tugged. 

Nothing happened. It wasn’t moving.

And the water was coming up. _Fast._

Katara grasped at the wall. She finally found something to hold onto.

“This way! Give me your hand.”

Zuko grabbed her hand. Katara pushed through the water with gritted teeth. She moved one arm around so the water flowed around them instead of against them. It kind of worked. Enough that they were able to reach a stairwell. Leading up.

They climbed. But it wasn’t enough. They weren’t free. The stairwell was locked by another metal gate. Katara reached it first. She tried to tug it open. It rattled. But didn’t open. She tried to make a joke about where Toph was when they needed them, but it fell flat. Now wasn’t the time. They were stuck here, below deck, cold and shivering. The water was coming up again, flooding the stairwell. _Fast_.

They pulled and pushed on the metal gate, making a rattling sound.

“HELP! HELP! PLEASE, HELP US!”

Zuko yelped. The water had reached their feet. Katara tried to push it away. There was nowhere else for the water to go and it kept coming up, up, up… She froze the top layer, but the ice cracked under its own weight. So, she reached for the gate once more.

“HELP!”

She heard footsteps. 

Was that someone? Was that really someone?

A steward appeared, looking absolutely terrified. He was hunched in on himself, hands in fists pulled up against his torso. The man walked past them as if he hadn’t seen them. But they’d seen him. Katara’s voice came out hoarse when she called:

“Please, sir, come help us! Please!”

He stopped on his way up the stairwell. He turned around.

The steward stared at them.

“Please,” added Zuko.

He turned around… then dropped down the stairwell with a curse. The man’s hands shook as he grabbed his ring of keys from his belt. He was helping them. He was helping them! Katara had never felt more happy to see someone. Hope bubbled in her chest. They were going to get out of here! They were going to be freed!

The steward tried a key. Wrong one. Then another...

“Hurry!”

“Come on, come on!”

Electricity crackled. A spark blinded them. Light flashed and suddenly, there was darkness. The man hummed something. He looked up.

Katara saw sorrow in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I dropped the keys!”

He ran away, up the stairwell. Zuko called after him. Pleading.

“Please, sir! No, come back!”

Katara breathed in and dropped underwater. She kept her eyes open, blinking away the salt. She tried to find the keys but it was so hard to see. Blinding flashes of light and endless darkness. Her hand patted against the floor. She found the metal gate. Her hand slipped underneath, thin and bony. There was nothing, nothing, nothing… if she used waterbending, she could wash the keys away. Come on, come on, come on…

She touched something. The keys.

But they were too far. She couldn’t hold onto them.

Katara’s head burst through the surface. Zuko gasped.

“Katara!”

“I don’t have the keys!”

Their heads were almost at the ceiling. Soon, everything would be flooded… There wouldn’t be enough air… They were stuck. They were trapped.

No. Katara had another idea. 

“I’m going down again!”

“What?!”

“You’re going to have to trust me!”

“Okay. I trust you!”

Katara took in a deep breath. She dove underwater. 

Katara reached for the water around her. She grasped at a small amount. Turning it into small ice daggers. One, two, three, four, five… Until ten of them were in the water with her. Katara shot ice daggers at the metal gate. Shooting at its weak points. Leaving bubbling white trails behind. She shot. And again… And again...

Five daggers. Six daggers. Seven...

Come on, come on, come on... 

She shot her last ice dagger.

The gate collapsed. Water pushed them forward. Katara’s head was underwater for so long, she didn’t know what was up or down anymore. A pair of hands found her arms, holding her steady. Katara’s own hands soon found the stairwell’s steps. She pushed herself up. Her head broke through the water. She gasped for air. 

Zuko was looking at her. Clearly worried.

“Katara?”

“I’m okay! I’m okay!”

They started up the stairwell. Cold and wet. 

* * *

Panic had fully settled on deck now. Sokka kept close to Suki, Jet and Aang. His hand found Suki’s. She squeezed it tight. People were running, screaming, pushing. When the officers told them to stand back, Sokka almost argued. But Aang pushed them out of the way. They were trying to hoist a lifeboat off from the highest deck with oars. Soon enough, it came crashing down on deck. 

“Thanks, Aang,” said Sokka.

“You’re welcome.”

He was hugging Appa tight. Momo had gotten lost into the fray. He’d been spooked by the distress signals. And now there was nothing of Aang’s usually jovial expression. 

Nothing but fear. 

“Hey.”

Sokka put a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll be okay, all right?”

Aang swallowed. Then, he nodded.

“All right.”

“Why, hello! Don’t I know you?”

They all turned around. Sokka’s gaze fell on an old man who was now… somehow... familiar. Apart from the bloodied nose, though that seemed under control. Amidst the chaos, it was hard to think. Sokka racked his brain. He knew this man. Of course he knew him. But somehow, it escaped him... Who was this man? Where had he seen him before? 

That’s when it hit him. 

Sokka’s eyes widened.

“You were with us when we were with Katara and Zuko!”

“Indeed!” The old man laughed. “My name’s Iroh. I’m Zuko’s uncle.”

“Sokka. Katara’s brother.”

“I figured as much. It’s nice to officially meet you anyway.”

They hugged. With matching smiles.

“What happened to your nose?” asked Suki.

“Oh, nothing, really. I just had a run in with my brother and my niece…”

* * *

Ozai pushed his way through the door and into the open air. Then, he followed the crowd of men. Down the deck. Everything was finally apart. Azula was nowhere to be found and the last lifeboat was leaving. If he didn’t leave soon, he was going to die. He was going to die like a commoner. That wasn’t going to happen. 

Not on his watch. 

Ozai prowled the First Class deck, looking for a way out. 

He stopped. 

He heard a child. Crying.

Ozai looked behind an alcove. A little girl was there. She was wearing Third Class clothes. And she was crying. Ozai blinked. Was he…?

He walked away. He didn’t have the time to save a kid. He had to save himself, first. 

* * *

Zuko ran up the stairs behind Katara. Urging her forward.

“Come on, keep going up!”

His lungs and his limbs were on fire. But he had to keep going. 

They had to.

* * *

Men fell in the water. Iroh watched as Ozai shoved his way to Officer Murdoch. Who was currently talking to their small group, with Jet at the front. Iroh kept his head bowed. Trying not to be seen. It seemed to work. In this wriggling, anxious crowd gathered around them, it was hard to see anyway. Iroh watched as Ozai’s gaze landed on Jet. A tall, lanky boy maybe around Zuko’s age, with shaggy hair - possibly Third Class, Ozai probably noticed when he scowled - was talking to Murdoch.

“Give us a chance to live, you limey bastards!”

Murdoch pulled out his gun. Iroh gasped. His voice was strained. 

Under stress.

“I'll shoot any man who tries to get past me!”

Ozai blinked. “We had a deal, Murdoch.”

Iroh’s eyebrows shot up. Oh. So _that_ was the arrangement he’d talked about.

But it seemed Ozai had underestimated the First Officer. Murdoch pulled a stash of money out of his pocket. Bills flew away, fluttering on the wind. 

“That money can’t save you as much as it can save me!”

And with that, Ozai was shoved aside. There was more jostling in the crowd. Iroh’s grip tightened around Aang’s shoulders. Pulling him back. 

It all happened so fast. 

Iroh barely had the time to notice. A man came from behind Jet. Murdoch shot. The man fell away, unarmed. The crowd, scared, pushed Jet forward. Murdoch lifted his gun. 

He fired. 

People screamed. Appa barked. Jet fell to the ground with a broken cry. He was propped up by Aang, Iroh and Suki. Sokka fell to his knees. Facing Jet.

“Jet, come on! Listen to me. Keep your focus on me. Don’t… don’t…!”

Sokka’s hands came out bloodied when he tried to put pressure on the wound.

Jet was already dead.

“No! Jet!” He looked up at Murdoch. “You bastard!”

Officer Murdoch looked on in shock. He looked down. Every move seemed slow. So slow. Iroh watched as the man walked over to the water’s edge. Then, Iroh and him shared a glance. He looked at his fellow officer, on his right. 

Murdoch saluted.

He lifted the gun to his temple.

“No, Will!”

 _BANG!_

His body fell in the water.

* * *

Ozai ran. The crowd was even more frantic now, kicking and screaming. He found his way back to the little girl who was still crying in that alcove. He picked her up, hoisting her on his shoulder. Then, Ozai called, loud and clear:

“I have a child! I have a child!”

He pushed his way through the crowd, facing another officer.

“I have a child! Please, sir. She’s all I have in the world.”

The officer sized him up.

“Give her to me.”

Ozai obliged. The officer picked the little girl up in his arms. Ozai wanted to smile. He put on his best acting abilities. He had done it, he was going to survive! His hope was squashed when the man turned to the little girl and asked:

“Do you really know this man? Is he really your father?”

The little girl looked at him. Ozai nodded.

She shook her head.

“No.”

The officer’s face contorted in fury. 

“You tried to kidnap a child to save yourself?”

Ozai didn’t allow the man to give him a lecture. 

He started to walk away. Nostrils flaring.

“Yeah, that’s right! Get out of my sight!”

* * *

Zuko held tight on Katara’s hand. They ran. They ran through the entire First Class section, turning around the luxurious hallways as Zuko instructed. He knew these hallways, had walked these parts countless times in the past few days, and yet… it was so empty, so ghostly empty. Silence weighed on him, giving him chills. When they burst through intricate doors and ran around cushioned chairs, Zuko knew where he was. They’d found the First Class smoke room. The deep wood panelling gave everything a gloomy finish. A tray filled with brandy clattered down the angled floor. Zuko was about to follow Katara out the door when he pulled her back. Stopping on the richly-decorated carpet.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!”

They weren’t alone. A man was standing in front of the fireplace. Fire still roared inside. Casting orange shadows and light upon his face. The man stared at the painting hanging over the mantel. He stared at it, but… it seemed as if he wasn’t seeing him. Eyes glazed over. He looked dazed. Lost. Devastated. Zuko’s heart tightened in his chest. 

He knew this man. That man. That man was…

“Mr. Andrews?”

He tilted his head to them. As if seeing them for the first time.

His voice was thick with emotion.

“Oh. Hello, Zuko.”

Zuko dropped Katara’s hand. He walked forward. Towards him.

“Won't you even make a try for it?”

Mr. Andrews swallowed. 

He didn’t need to answer. Zuko knew.

“I'm sorry that I didn't build you a stronger ship. Zuko. Katara.”

The ship groaned. The floor tilted some more. Almost imperceptibly. Zuko was rooted to the spot. He didn’t move, even as Katara tugged on his arm.

“It's going fast,” she said. “We've got to keep moving.”

“I know.”

Zuko knew. But he felt like there was more left to say. Mr. Andrews had fought for them… and yet. He’d been overwritten. He’d been talked over by too many people, too many powerful people… and now… Zuko and Mr. Andrews exchanged a look.

“You tried your best.”

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t enough.”

This time, Mr. Andrews looked over at Katara. Zuko saw Katara swallow. Something was said in that glance. Something he didn’t quite understand. Until Mr. Andrews said:

“I hope you two can be enough.”

“I hope so too.”

Katara looked back at Zuko. Tugging on his arm.

“We have to go, now. Quick.”

“Wait.”

Mr. Andrews grabbed his lifebelt, resting on an armchair next to him. He gave it to Zuko, who immediately gave it to Katara. When it looked like she was going to protest, he sent her a _look_. She was a waterbender, but she wouldn’t be able to bend forever. With a nod, Katara put it on. Then, Zuko turned back to Mr. Andrews. He was smiling.

“Good luck to you. Both of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Andrews.”

Zuko wrapped the man in a hug. Andrews looked like he was about to cry.

With that, they ran away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Katara v Azula fight was heavily inspired by a deleted scene from Titanic where Jack fights Lovejoy in the dining room. It had huge Final Agni Kai vibes and I couldn't wait to add it here!
> 
> James Cameron mentioned in (I believe) Titanic: 20 years later that if he was to re-do the film, First Officer William McMaster Murdoch would probably have a different, more nuanced fate. He was a hero who saved many passengers, including men, whom he allowed on the lifeboats he launched. We don't know how he died. I used his death scene from the movie, but I wonder what could have happened to him. Rest in Peace.
> 
> I'm sorry, Jet :(
> 
> Next week: The ship finishes sinking and we find a door.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

* * *

_And it’s over and I’m going under_

_But I’m not giving up, I’m just giving in_

* * *

Katara was the last one to push the revolving door. 

She sent Mr. Andrews one last glance. She nodded at him and he nodded back. He truly looked like he was about to cry when he nodded back. But no tears fell. He was devastated, yet stoic. Strong. Feeling her heart shatter in two, Katara followed after Zuko.

They ran through another dining room. Or was it a café? In any case, they walked around countless tables and chairs. Holding Zuko’s hand, Katara stepped in the cold night air.

* * *

“Mr. Guggenheim?”

Benjamin Guggenheim walked down the grand staircase. He looked as finely-dressed as he did whenever he attended the great ballets in Paris’ Opéra Garnier. He strode with his head held high, his black top hat only adding to his height. Around the grand staircase, people fastened life belts, climbed or walked down. John Jacob Astor stood off to the side, his whole face in a severe frown. Others stared up at the glass dome.

Probably seeing it for the last time.

A steward carrying two lifebelts offered them to him and his friend. Guggenheim stopped upon the last step and raised an elegant hand, gloved in white.

“These are for you, Mr. Guggenheim.”

“No, thank you.” Guggenheim walked down the last step. “We are dressed in our best and are prepared to go down as gentlemen.”

The ship groaned. Guggenheim preferred to ignore it. As much as he could.

“But we would like a brandy!”

* * *

One of the last lifeboats - if not the last - was being prepared to be lowered to sea.

Captain Edward Smith stood amongst the crowd. Passengers hugged their children as crewmembers shouted orders, pulled on ropes and lifted the lifeboat with oars. All sights were blurred, all sounds were stifled in his ears. 

This didn’t seem real. 

Captain Smith looked around him.

Water was rising. Fast. It filled the closest staircase and flowed up onto the deck. Soon… Soon the water would be here. It was arriving.

No. It had arrived.

“ _Capitaine? Capitaine!_ ”

Captain Smith turned around. He faced a woman holding a baby. A shawl had been wrapped around her head, yet she looked cold. So cold. So cold and lost.

“ _Où dois-je aller?_ Where should I go? Please?”

Captain Smith gaped at her. He gaped at her, at her baby, back at her. He didn’t know where she could go. Where could she go? But he knew, then. He knew he had to go. It was his fault, all his fault. The ice warnings, the binoculars… It was all his fault.

He’d done this. He’d doomed these people.

He turned around. Captain Smith started to walk away. Mechanically.

“Captain, Captain!”

That voice had come from behind him. Captain Smith stopped. He faced a steward. The Captain looked at the life belt he was offering him. He looked back up at the man.

“Sir?”

Captain Smith walked past him.

Soon enough, he was stepping towards the bridge in cold water. Captain Smith barely felt it, he barely felt its thousand knives digging into his legs. He waded to the helm. In slow, so slow, yet purposeful steps. Orange and blue lights were cast down on the water. The ship groaned, deep into his bones. Music filtered into his ears. The band was still playing. Those brave, brave men. They were sinking and the band was still playing. To the end. 

His fault. All his fault.

Captain Smith closed the wheelhouse’s door behind him. 

Silence filled the room.

* * *

Sokka walked as if in a daze. Everything was blurry. Was he crying? He might be. Maybe he was. He couldn’t really be sure. Oh. Yes. Yes, those were tears falling from his eyes. Sokka followed after Iroh. Behind him were Aang, Appa and Suki, still holding on tight to her. Jet was dead. And Aang was wearing his life belt. And Katara… he didn’t know where she was. She was nowhere to be found. And they were all going to die. 

What was the point?

Not far away, the band finished playing. A waltz, perhaps. Sokka didn’t really know music - those artsy things had already been Katara’s thing, they had never really interested him - so he couldn’t precisely identify that kind of dance or not. They walked past the band members who were looking at each other. Sokka heard them talk.

“All right,” said one. “That’s it, then.”

A hand on a shoulder, a pat on the back.

“Goodbye. Good luck.”

“Goodbye.”

“Good luck.”

“You, too.”

The band members started to walk away. All except one violinist. Around them, people ran, chucked chairs overboard, tried to save themselves. People talked so fast, others screamed, some more cried. The violinist lifted his instrument to his neck once more. He started to play. A sorrowful, mourning song. Sokka pulled on Suki’s hand. He stopped to wipe his eyes away. The man was going to die alone. Still playing.

The band members turned around. 

They looked at each other. 

Then, they walked back to the violinist.

Together, they started to play.

* * *

Captain Smith stared at the empty room. 

Water flooded in from under the door. It ate away at the front of the room, rising and rising from beyond the glass. Soon, it would be here. Water sneaked through her crack and crevice, everywhere it could go. Water flowed. Water was unstoppable. A bubbling force, an insatiable threat, so easily underestimated. 

This was going to be it.

Captain Smith gripped the helm with one old hand.

* * *

Mr. Andrews looked at his pocket watch.

One of his hands rested on the fireplace’s mantel. The other put his watch back in its rightful place. His face was creased with lines. Yet he wasn’t worried. He didn’t feel worried. He only felt saddened, a devastating kind of saddened. Mr. Andrews reached forward. He opened the clock and set the time. Two o’clock and twelve minutes in the morning.

Who knew? 

Perhaps in a hundred, perhaps in two hundred years, someone would find this clock. And then they’d know. They may never know he stood here, but they’d know the time he died. Mr. Andrews found some comfort in that.

They’d know about his failure.

He’d be remembered as the man who built - and sank - the unsinkable ship.

His fault. It was all his fault.

Mr. Andrews closed the clock. His glass fell, shattered by gravity.

He barely heard its sound.

As both his hands rested against the mantel, Mr. Andrews bowed his head.

* * *

In a cabin in First Class, Isador Strauss settled in bed with his lovely, lovely wife. His stubborn, stubborn wife, who had decided to spend her last moments with him. And a part of him, a selfish part, was glad she had. He was glad he wouldn’t be alone. To be alone would mean this was the end. But it wasn’t. He was sure of it. 

Isador hugged Ida from behind. None of them talked as the water flooded the room. They found strength in each other.

Isador clasped their hands together. He leaned forward and kissed Ida’s cheek.

They didn’t speak.

Water rushed into the room.

* * *

“And so,” she said, her voice so quiet in the room, “they lived happily together for three hundred years… in the land of Tír na nÓg.”

In a cabin in steerage, an Irish mother had put her two small, oh so small, children into bed. She’d settled herself between them. Her hand rested in between their heads, toying with a blanket. Her daughter looked at her with her big, so big eyes. Her son closed his own as she told them this story. This story so close to her heart. 

“The land of eternal youth and beauty.”

Her daughter closed her eyes and her breathing evened. She was asleep.

They both were.

She hoped they’d dream sweet dreams. They deserved that.

That was what her children deserved.

* * *

No one was there to witness what happened in the Kais’ suite.

It had been abandoned. Left alone. The room tilted, the water came, and yet the clock still remained on the mantle. The safe - which contained so few treasures now, only those made of paper drawn with care by a young woman over many, many years - still stood in its place. It seemed only the paintings were disturbed by the flooding water. Edgar Degas’ ballerinas floated with grace above Claude Monet’s glistening pond.

The dancers would never dance again. The geometric _demoiselles_ would never stare again. And the water lilies would never shimmer in the light again.

Those paintings would forever be lost to History.

* * *

And still. The band played.

* * *

Water flooded the ship. People pushed, people shoved.

The crewmembers were desperate. Readying the last lifeboat. Ozai stared. He stared at all these people. All these people who were going to die. Maybe… maybe he could… No, no, he couldn’t. He could only stare. He stared as a passenger opened a pocket knife with his mouth and started to cut through the ropes holding the lifeboat back. 

The water rushed in, gurgling and rumbling.

The ship groaned.

People started to run towards the front of the ship. Someone screamed.

Ozai followed after them.

* * *

Benjamin Guggenheim was ready. He knew he was. 

And yet, when the water came… he wasn’t ready.

People swam, others gasped. And still the water came. Impossibly blue.

Guggenheim stared, mouth opened and eyes wide.

He wasn’t ready.

But ready or not, he would still go down like a gentleman.

As had been his wish.

* * *

People ran from the rushing water. Terrified screams reached Sokka’s ears. A man carrying a lifesaver shoved his shoulder as he ran past him, but he barely noticed it. Sokka’s heart felt full. His throat tightened, his eyes burned with salt again. He turned to Suki. She and Aang and Iroh were looking at him, concern shining in their eyes. 

He knew, now.

This was what mattered. 

The love of friends, the love of family, the love of people, the love of music, the love of art. Love. Love was the point. 

Human connection. This was what mattered. Even in chaos.

“Better to die in good company than alone. Right?”

There was a moment of silence. Then, the others nodded. Aang was crying. Iroh was crying. Sokka was crying. Suki was crying, too. They all were.

“Yeah,” said Suki. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Iroh walked towards him. He put a hand on Sokka’s shoulder. They shared a smile.

“Very well said, Sokka.”

Water was eating away at the ship. Still, they listened. They listened until the song was over, until there were no more tears left to shed. Until the band members were done.

The last note was played. Solemn, the violinist said: 

“Gentlemen?” 

They all stared at him. He took in a deep breath. Then, he finished:

“It has been a privilege playing with you tonight.”

Sokka and Suki left hand in hand, Iroh, Aang and Appa right behind them.

When the water came, they accepted it.

* * *

The glass creaked and cracked.

There was a strange hissing sound.

It was time.

Captain Smith took in a deep breath.

One window collapsed. Then another. Then another. Soon, all windows were gone. Water flooded in. Blue, so blue. A pale blue, almost light green, as if illuminated from the inside. Captain Smith moved aside to stand at the helm. He held it with both hands. It took barely a second, but water rose to the ceiling. Flooding the room.

And still the Captain stood at the helm.

* * *

There was only screaming. 

Azula made her way from the front of the ship towards the back. She gritted her teeth. There was only screaming. A lifeboat had been overturned in the water. One man stood on its side, holding on to the ship’s rigging, trying to stay out of the water. Screaming. Another passenger was cutting at the ropes with a knife. Screaming. People grabbed onto the railing, pulling themselves up and out of the water. Screaming.

People shoved, pushed, ran. Some fell in the water. Others clung onto ropes, legs dangling in the empty air. Most shoved, pushed, ran. All tried to save their lives.

A thousand feet hammered against the wooden floors.

They knew. This was it.

The ship’s last few moments.

Azula followed after the crowd. Pushing and shoving whoever pushed and shoved against her. In the throng of people, she didn’t see Father. And he didn’t see her.

Screaming. There was only screaming.

* * *

Zuko shivered against the cold night air, his hand still firmly in Katara’s. He held onto her hand as if it was the only thing grounding him. And it was. The ship was heavily tilted now and passengers pushed and shoved and elbowed to make their way to the back of the ship. Some fell in the water. Zuko and Katara leaned over the railing, looking out at the water. The ocean was alive, swallowing the ship at a rapidly increasing rate.

They were running out of time.

Where should they go? What should they do?

“Katara?”

Katara’s hands on his shoulders steadied him.

“We have to stay on this ship as long as possible,” she told him. “Come on!”

Right. That was the logical thing to do.

He followed after her.

* * *

John Jacob Astor was there.

He was there when the grand staircase flooded. 

Water rushed in from all sides. People clung to columns, clawing at railings, holding onto decorative statues for dear life. Windows cracked under pressure and more were sucked inside. Water rumbled, washing away bodies, swallowing screams. 

* * *

“Okay, okay, okay, we’re going to have to…”

People fell around them, hitting the ground hard. Zuko climbed over the railing and landed on the floor down below. He turned around, facing Katara. She was battling against her long skirts. Once she’d climbed over the railing, he offered her his arms. 

“Jump!”

She did. Katara landed next to him. He wrapped his arms around her. Keeping her steady. She shot him a grateful smile. Zuko only nodded.

“All right, let’s go.”

* * *

John Jacob Astor fought against the water. He fought and he fought and he fought.

He fought until he was no longer submerged, until he could stand on the landing above the clock. The water was rising. Fast. _Faster_. Screams echoed in his ears, desperate screams. People’s heads were almost touching the ceiling, down below. As the water reached him, all he could do was hold on. He held on with all his might to the landing, his arms wrapped around the railing. A woman screeched as the water reached her.

The clock was submerged. 

But as the ship sank further and further into the sea, windows on the landing burst open. A woman was sucked inside, followed by a man. Then another. Fingers grasped for something, anything, to pull them out. But they were all trapped inside.

It felt as if no one could fight against the water.

* * *

They ran. Around them there was nothing but pandemonium. People screamed, swam, ran. Out on the water, Katara could see legs and feet kicking frantically, trying to keep heads out of the cold water. Katara held onto Zuko’s hand. Never letting go. They ran up, up, up, always up. Never stopping. Always moving. They soon reached another part of the ship they needed to go down. Zuko went first, then he turned to her.

“I got you. Jump!”

She did. But this time, Katara lost her footing and fell hard against the floor.

“Ow!”

A good man reached out to help her up.

“I’ve got you, Miss!”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And good luck, Miss.”

Katara nodded at him. The man started to walk away, pushing his way through the crowd. She looked around. Wait. She’d lost sight of Zuko. Where was he? _Where was he?_

“Zuko? Zuko!”

* * *

He’d lost her. He’d lost her in the crowd. 

“Katara?”

Zuko looked around. People pushed him aside, on their way to the back of the ship. He’d lost sight of her. Where was she? _Where was she?_

“Katara!”

“Zuko!”

She was there. He found her.

* * *

“I’m right here!”

He appeared through the crowd, taking her hand and pulling her along after him. They were moving forward, always forward. Following the crowd to the back of the ship. Even as panic threatened to overcome her, Katara couldn’t help but spare a thought to all those people they’d left behind. What had happened to Sokka? To Suki? To Aang? To Iroh? To Jet? What had happened to their friends, to their family?

Were they okay? Were they all right?

Katara hoped they weren’t alone.

* * *

Iroh swam. 

He was almost swallowed by one of the windows sucking him in, but Iroh managed to grab onto the wall and push himself out. Then, he swam some more. Away from the sinking ship. He swam desperately, so desperately, to keep his head out of the water. It felt cold, so cold, so devastatingly _cold_. He was a firebender; he wasn’t used to this kind of cold. His inner fire didn’t seem enough. It couldn’t warm himself through. 

Iroh swam amongst a crowd of wriggling passengers.

He swam. He swam, he swam, he swam. He swam until he found familiar faces. 

“Iroh! Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine!”

Iroh swam until he reached Sokka and Suki, who were still holding onto each other. Aang was there also, a little ways away. He was swimming away. Further and further away from the sinking ship. What was he… what was he doing?

“Aang!” 

“Don’t worry about me! I’m going after Appa!”

Iroh saw Aang take in a deep breath and dive underwater. There was a moment. A long, so long second. Aang wasn’t going back out. He wasn’t… he was… _gone._ Iroh’s mouth hung open. He was about to follow after him when a hand squeezed his shoulder.

“He’s an airbender,” said Sokka. “He’ll be okay.”

“I see.”

Still. Iroh hoped the kid would be all right.

_Twing! Twing, twing, twing!_

Large cords holding the chimney in place were torn apart, smacking against the water, giant wips creating waves. There was a loud groan. A wail. Followed by creaking and cracking. Iroh looked up. One of _Titanic_ ’s chimneys was falling.

“Suki?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Iroh saw Suki and Sokka kissing in the water. They wrapped their arms around each other. Holding on tight. A giant shadow was falling on them.

Iroh closed his eyes.

He thought of Lu Ten, Song and Zuko before the hit came.

* * *

A huge wave rose as the last chimney fell. More and more people screamed, out on the water. Zuko tried not to listen. He tried not to.

The lights went out. More people screamed.

Zuko held on to Katara’s hand as they pushed through the crowd. He held on tighter as the lights flickered and came back on. Zuko pushed Katara forward, staying behind her as they climbed up the staircase. Before them was a man who was praying aloud, wishing for safe travels to a “valley of death”. Zuko hurried him on with a sarcastic remark. 

“Can we hurry on to that valley of death?”

He couldn’t help it, really. That was his defense mechanism in times of stress.

That poor man probably didn’t deserve it.

A thought eclipsed all others in his mind. Was Uncle okay? Had he made it?

* * *

John Jacob Astor clung to a column.

He’d hoisted himself up above the water, standing against the railing. For a moment, he breathed in. He breathed in deeply. Heavily. Maybe… For a moment he hoped maybe, just maybe, he could get some time of peace. Before… Before…

Water thought otherwise.

With a heavy _crack!_ the glass dome shattered inwards. Waterfalls fell from the skies, blurring all sights. Lights flashed. People wailed. There was nothing but whiteness, a frothing whiteness, tinged with blue, roaring, crashing, destroying. 

People screamed. Reaching for something. Anything.

* * *

Inside the ship, water travelled down the hallways, tearing rooms apart and pulling doors off their hinges. Always marching forward. Never stopping. 

Swallowing everything whole.

* * *

Zuko pushed on, struggling against gravity threatening to send them sliding down the length of the ship. They were so far up now, so tilted up, he thought the propellers must be completely out of the water by now. 

How ironic. Hadn’t it been a few days ago since he’d used that cheap excuse about the propellers to get Katara out of handcuffs? 

And now here they were, back on this deck. Surviving.

Lights flickered once again.

Zuko stopped for barely a second. Just to catch his breath. 

His hand curled around the railing, looking out upon the water. People fell in the water. Screaming. There was so much screaming...

“Zuko. Look at me.”

He turned to Katara. She swallowed, but still looked at him.

“Yes?”

“We have to keep going.”

“Right.”

People were running, but not everyone was running. There was… Yes. There was a priest there. Preaching to a crowd. Passengers and crew members had fallen to their knees, praying for safe passage into the afterlife. When he shared one glance with Katara, Zuko decided to push on. His eyes focussed on the end of the ship. The very end. 

They kept close to the railing, grabbing onto columns and pushing forward.

His own breathing was harsh in his ears.

Still, he pushed forward. Always forward.

“Come on, come on!”

They had to make it. Come on, come on, come on! They had to make it!

They made it. Zuko’s hand curled around the railing. Katara melted into his side.

They were at the very end of the ship, standing under the light. This place was familiar. Of course. But he didn’t think about it. Instead, Zuko watched. He watched as Katara looked around, turning her head from left to right. There was a woman holding her child on one side. And on the other, a girl about her age. Or maybe his.

“It’ll be over soon,” said the woman holding her child. “It’ll be over soon.”

Zuko held on. He had to hold on.

The priest’s desperate voice reached his ears. Zuko ignored him. He didn’t want to think… He didn’t want to think about… about what he was preaching about. Not now.

Then Katara looked up at him. She smiled. Light reflected in her eyes.

“Zuko! This is where we first met.”

Katara’s hand reached up to cup his cheek. Touching his scar. Zuko’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t… He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t have the words. What could even be said right now? Instead, he put his hand against Katara’s. Zuko kissed the palm of her hand. Then, he kissed her forehead and brought her closer. 

Katara buried her face in the crook of his neck. 

Zuko watched.

* * *

Water reached the ceiling. The grand staircase finished flooding. Soon, there were no more screams as the water drowned out all sounds.

Bodies floated under the broken glass dome. 

Immobile.

Drowned.

* * *

Inside the ship, near the dining room, cabinets tilted. Tilted. Tilted. Porcelain plates shattered on the ground. Covering the hallways in broken china.

In luxurious First Class suites, dressers fell, their mirrors cracked. Beds groaned as they were pushed by gravity. Desks joined them. Wood splintering. Cracking.

No one was there to notice.

* * *

Fifth Officer Harold Lowe stood in his lifeboat.

There was still a part of him that cowered in terror, that told him this wasn’t real. That it was all a nightmare. That he was going to wake up soon. That the ship wasn’t rising higher and higher above the water. That it wasn’t going to crush all these people. All these people who were swimming. Close. So close.

Fifth Officer Harold Lowe ignored that part of him.

He had a job to do.

Lowe turned towards the terrified passengers in his lifeboat.

“I’m going to have to ask you all to row!”

People stared. With blank faces.

Lowe tried again.

“Hurry up, people! Row, row, row! Faster, faster, _faster!_ ”

He hoped they were going to make it. 

* * *

“I’ve got you, Miss! Don’t worry, I’ve got you!”

There was nothing but screaming, screaming, screaming. A chair went past her down the tilted deck. She held onto the man with both gloved hands. She held with all her strength, all her might. But she lost her grip. She tried to grasp onto something. Anything.

She couldn’t.

The Kai family maid slid down the entire length of the ship. 

Screaming.

All the way down.

* * *

The deck was still tilting. Zuko wrapped himself around Katara, holding on tight. Men climbed over the railing. One of them lost his footing. He fell. Down and down and down… He hit a propeller on the way down. His body hit the water. Splashing.

The man who had helped Katara up - Zuko had seen him briefly - stood on the railing, one hand holding himself up. He lifted a silver flask to his lips. Zuko almost envied him.

Almost.

“Hold on tight, hold on tight,” he said in Katara’s ears.

“I’m holding tight. Don’t worry about me.”

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but worry.

* * *

Mai watched.

She watched as all the other women in the lifeboats did. She watched. The ship was heavily tilted now. The lights were still on. Miraculously. Around them, there was nothing but endless waters, endless night, and a billion stars shining. Their only witness.

“Those poor people,” said Molly Brown.

Mai didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She only watched.

* * *

Toph heard.

She heard their screams. Their calls for help. She heard bodies splashing in the water, she heard feet pounding against the wooden floors. She heard a woman’s ear-splitting screech. She heard the women in the lifeboat. She heard the ruffle of clothes, the rubbing of gloved hands against forearms, the scared breaths. Someone was crying. Calmly sobbing. 

She heard it. She heard it all.

Toph clung to the woman and her two daughters.

* * *

Bruce Ismay felt it.

He felt the people’s anguish. He felt their fears, their terror, their horror. He felt their pain, he felt their bodies smashing against metal, against wood, against water. He felt the wind on his face. He felt the cold seeping into his bones. He felt his own shivering body.

He felt it, but he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear their fates.

He looked away.

Bruce Ismay couldn’t watch.

* * *

“Come on, come on, keep it on, keep it on!”

Inside the ship, the engineers had worked tirelessly to keep its electricity going. None of them had left. They’d kept watch. They’d kept watch as the ship had tilted, as they knew they wouldn’t make it. They’d stayed. For everyone else.

One engineer was offered a hand by his colleague. Now his friend. 

Survival made friends out of people. 

He was helped forward as he walked towards one of the machines. Dangerous sparks filled the air. He had to fix it, he had to. The man walked forward. He reached the machine.

A jolt of electricity coursed through his body.

* * *

Suddenly, all the lights went out. 

Bloodcurdling screams filled his ears. 

This was it. 

This was the ship’s final moments. He knew it. Zuko knew it in his bones, he knew it in every fiber of his being. Then he heard the worst sound of his entire life. Wood splintering and metal groaning. The ship was cracking in half.

* * *

Azula held onto the railing. She was probably halfway through the ship. Her face was bloodied, her bending exhausted. But alive. She was still alive.

That peasant girl would pay. Zuko would pay.

“Azula!”

She turned around. Who? What? 

Someone was coming towards her. She recognized him. Even in the dark.

Father. 

It was Father, walking towards her. When he reached her, she saw fear in his eyes. He’d never been scared. Never. Azula felt her confidence crack. He hadn’t gotten into one of those lifeboats. And neither had she. She thought she’d get away with it like she always did. But it was clear now she wouldn’t.

“You fought bravely for me,” said Father. “Thank you.”

She’d never thought she’d hear Father say thank you. 

And now he was facing death.

Azula wrapped her arms around Father’s middle. He held her tight, holding her like he’d once done when she was a child waking up from a nightmare. When they were still happy. When Mother was still alive and Father didn’t have his gambling debts. Of course she knew it wasn’t Mother’s fault. She’d just never told Zuko. It was funnier that way.

After all, as he’d once said, _Azula always lied._

So she lied, then. 

One last time.

“We’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay, Father.”

“I know, Azula. I know.”

He held on tight.

That’s when she heard it. The splintering, the groaning. The sound of glass shattering reached her. The ship broke in half. Azula held onto the railing. Father held on too. People fell in the crack. Screaming. 

Azula felt herself slip.

She and Father fell.

* * *

The ship fell, fell, fell. One second, two seconds, three seconds… 

They landed.

People screamed, people screamed, people _screamed_. A huge wave rose up when they crashed. She held on for dear life, body shaking. But she held on.

Katara held on tight to the railing, Zuko’s strong arms around her. The chimneys crashed, their cords snapping. Water rumbled.

For a moment, nothing moved. 

For a moment, she thought they were safe. 

But then the ship started tilting up again. Up, up, up, up… The entire half of the ship was swallowed down by its own weight, cracked in the middle. More screams. More people screamed. Katara heard bodies smacking against the deck. People falling. 

That’s when Katara realized if they stayed on that side of the railing, they’d fall. 

“We have to move!”

She climbed onto the railing. 

“Come on, Zuko. After me. Don’t worry, I’ll pull you in!”

“Okay!” 

“Come on, hurry, give me your hand!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Katara pulled Zuko in after her. 

“I’ve got you, I won’t let go!”

Finally, _finally_ , they were both on the other side. They held on, facing down through the railing. Katara’s heart drummed in her ears, but she tried to concentrate. She _had_ to concentrate on her surroundings. 

They were still going up. Up, up, up…

“What’s going to happen, Katara?”

She looked at Zuko. He looked terrified.

Katara couldn’t lie to him. Not now. He deserved the truth.

“I don’t know.”

They were at a ninety degrees angle now. 

They stopped.

Staring down. Looking down. 

People held onto poles, onto the railings, onto anything. They held on for dear life, they held on with so much strength. For some, it wasn’t enough. They fell. Bodies hit bodies, hit railings, hit the floor. Tumbling. Groaning. Screaming. 

Katara looked to her left. There was the young woman she’d seen earlier. The young woman who looked to be about her age. Or maybe Zuko’s.

She breathed in quick, terrified breaths.

The woman let go.

She fell down, down, down… into the black and white gurgling waters

Katara was a waterbender. And as a waterbender, she had never been afraid of her element. She knew its flow, she knew its power. She’d never been afraid of it. Not even below deck. Not even when she’d been tied to that pipe. 

She’d never been scared of water. 

Never before.

Katara looked around again. Next to her was the man who had helped her when she’d fallen. She offered him a smile. He smiled back.

They started to move. 

They were going down. Gravity pulling at them. As the ship started on its way down, down, down, Katara felt fear claw at her throat. She breathed in the cold night air, trying to keep her head even against the fear. But she knew water. And this water horrified her. This was the ocean. This was water in its rawest form. Water was alive. Water was all-encompassing. All-powerful. It swallowed everything in its path. Like a starved monster. A monster that wouldn’t let them go until they… until they were… until they were all...

Until they were all dead.

They were going down. Down, down, down…

“This is it,” said Zuko.

She nodded. They kept on going down. Down, down, down… The ship cracked, it groaned, it surrendered to water. They were going down. Down, down, down… 

“Spirits, Spirits, Spirits, Spirits…!”

“Hold on!”

Katara braced herself. When they would reach that water, sooner or later, there would be nothing but a thousand knives hitting her. Her own element would swallow her whole. Katara’s mind raced. She was too cold to waterbend and even then, she didn’t have any room to do her bending moves and she didn’t know how long it would last before she died even if she could. There wasn’t anyone coming back to get them. 

They were trapped.

“Take a deep breath,” Zuko instructed, “and hold it right before we go into the water. Uncle says firebending comes from the breath, but I bet it’s true for waterbending, too.” 

Right. She was a waterbender. 

And yet…

She was powerless against her own element.

No. Not powerless. _Never_ powerless. If there was anything she knew, it was water. She knew how it reacted. How it behaved.

Katara knew water. And knowledge was power.

“Okay. Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Katara remembered that day when she’d gone through thin ice. Before Dad had left. “When we’re in the water, the ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kicking. Don't let go of my hand.” 

“I won’t.” 

They shared a glance.

“We're gonna make it, Katara. Trust me.”

She wasn’t certain of that, but she trusted him. 

That, she did.

“I trust you.”

It was a long way down. Water rushing through the last few parts of the ship. Waves crashing, white against deep blue. Everything was in shades of white and blue.

“Ready? Take a deep breath… NOW!”

And as Katara took a deep breath, _Titanic_ finished sinking.

Katara couldn’t brace herself for the cold when it came. You could never get used to a cold like that. It clawed at her skin, at her nerves, at her blood. It tugged at her on all sides. Water pulled her down. Katara opened her eyes. Zuko was still holding her hand. Holding on tight. _Titanic_ ’s last wails - metal’s plaint, a sound she’d never forget - filled her ears, merging with the bubbling of water’s call. Katara kicked and kicked and kicked. She felt a small amount of water answering her. Bending to her will. Pulling her away from the ship. 

Zuko moved to grab at her lifebelt. Kicking up. Up, up, _up_. But it wasn’t enough. A rush of water filled her ears. Katara felt Zuko’s fingers slip around her lifebelt’s straps. His grip loosened. He disappeared in the blink of an eye. She reached out. She reached at…

Nothing.

Gone. 

He was gone, he was gone, he was...

Kick. She had to _kick._ Katara’s head broke through the surface. 

“ZUKO!”

Around her there was nothing but screaming, screaming, screaming. Chilling, horrifying, terrifying. People screamed at the sky, screamed at someone. Anyone. To save them, to help them. Katara looked around. There were so many people trying to scramble to get out of the water. She was swimming in a sea of flailing bodies. 

Where was he? Where _was_ he?

“Zuko! Zuko, where are you? Zuko? Zuko!”

Katara focussed on the people closest to her. They were more shapes, more silhouettes, than people. Some had stopped moving. Staring up at the night sky. They’d given up. Others panicked. Limbs thrashing. 

Screaming and crying and…

“Zuko! Zuko!”

She was surrounded by people. And yet Katara had never felt so alone.

People grasped at debris, pushing themselves out of the water. Others prayed.

Katara started to swim. Zuko wasn’t here. She had to find him.

“Zuko! Zuko, where are you?”

“Katara!”

That was his voice. That was his voice! She’d heard him!

“Zuko!”

“Katara! Katar…!”

His voice had trailed off. Strangled.

Katara looked around. She gritted her teeth against the cold. She looked closer. A man was trying to keep himself out of the water… by pushing someone else down. In any other circumstances, anger would have sparked in her belly. 

But right now, there was nothing but sadness. 

A cool, cold sadness. 

Desperation made you do the most desperate things to survive.

That’s all they were trying to do. Survive.

“I can’t… help!”

A head appeared from under the man. 

Katara gasped.

_Zuko._

“Hey, leave him alone!”

Katara swam over to them. Her heart aching, she steadied Zuko.

“Let go! Let go of him!”

The man didn’t. He only mumbled something. A strangled sob. She punched the man in the face. He splashed in the water. Looking at her stunned. 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Haggard and distraught, the man quickly swam away. Katara focussed only on Zuko. She helped him, getting his head out of the water. Allowing him to breathe. It was dark, so dark, she could barely see the outline of his face. The glimmer in his eyes. But he was there. Next to her. She’d found him. She’d found him!

Alive. They were alive.

“Are you okay?”

Zuko wrapped her in his arms. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay.”

“We’re gonna have to swim,” she told him. “Come on, I need you to swim!”

“Don’t worry, I’m following the waterbender!”

One of his hands held her lifebelt’s strap firmly as Zuko swam. Pulling her along.

“Keep swimming!”

“I am!”

They swam amidst a sea of bodies, amidst a sea of people. They swam with shuddering breaths, turned to vapour as soon as it hit the cold air. They swam.

They swam and swam and swam.

“There! Look!”

Katara looked at where Zuko was pointing.

They swam until they reached a large, discarded wooden door. Tall but not wide. It floated just above the surface. Katara stared at it with a critical eye. For barely a second. They didn’t have the time. She climbed first, down on her belly. When Zuko tried to climb after her onto the door, it tilted and fell over. Pulling back down in the water. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try again.”

They tried again. 

The door did the same thing, once again. It wasn’t working.

Because of space or… or buoyancy or whatever. It wasn’t working.

“Katara…”

She pushed past her doubts.

“It’s okay. We can try again!”

They tried again. Third time wasn’t the charm. It wasn’t working.

And she was getting tired. Her limbs ached each time she tried.

Katara climbed a fourth time on the door. It held her up and out of the water. Stable. Okay. She was stable. Steady. They were going to try again. They were going to... Katara turned to look at Zuko. Gesturing at him to try. One last time. 

Katara paused.

She saw it in his eyes.

It was him or her. 

And he was choosing her.

“No, no, no. Zuko, listen to me.” 

“Katara…”

“You’re going to climb on that door with me!”

“Katara, please.”

“ _No!_ ” Her voice cracked. “You’re going to…”

“Please, Katara! Stop. You stay on that door. I’ll be fine.”

“I…” 

Her mouth hung open. Then, an idea burst into her mind. 

“Let me try something, first.”

She tried to stand on the door to get into a bending position. Her legs, her arms, every limb of hers shook. She was cold. So cold… The door sank in the water. Cutting her motion short. It was no use. She was tired. So tired. 

She couldn’t do it.

All fighting was drained out of her. 

Katara felt empty. 

She relented.

“I…” 

Katara dropped back onto the door, on her stomach. Above water. She swallowed. 

“I tried… I tried to make a bridge out of ice. But…”

“It’s okay, Katara. It’s okay.”

No. No, it wasn’t okay. It _wasn’t_.

“It’s okay if you can’t. And even if you _could…_ ice burns.”

Katara’s hands gripped the edges of the door. She closed her eyes. So tight that it hurt. Right. He was right. Ice burned. Ice burned just as fire did.

They were one and the same, after all.

Zuko swam closer. He kissed her. Reassuring. She barely felt it.

“It’s okay, Katara. It’s okay.”

Zuko leaned his head on his arms, propped up on the door. His forehead touched hers. 

Cold. So cold. 

He was turning blue, the scar on his face a deeper shade than the rest of his skin. When she looked at her own arms, she saw that she was turning blue, too. Ice crystals clung to her eyelashes and her hair. They breathed the same cold air, listening to the people’s desperate cries. So many people. So many...

Not far away, a man whistled. The sound cut through her skull, cut through the air. They stared at the man. Katara wanted to tell him to shut up, but she couldn’t. She was shivering so hard, it was difficult to think. She shut her eyes closed again, jaw clenched. 

They were stuck. No one was coming for them. No one.

“They’re gonna come back for us,” said Zuko.

She wasn’t sure of that. Still, Katara opened her eyes again. He was smiling.

“The boats will come back for us, Katara. Hold on just a little longer. They had to row away for the suction and now they'll be coming back.”

Katara nodded. 

There wasn’t anything else she could do but wait.

* * *

Mai closed her eyes. She heard their screams. Endless. Devastating. Breaking apart her carefully-crafted composure. Mai covered her ears with both hands. She swallowed, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. She heard them. Their pleas for help. But what could they do? They were here and couldn’t do anything. They couldn’t help. 

Well. Not according to Molly Brown.

She stood up in the lifeboat and pleaded with the officer. 

“We have to go back! We have to help them!”

He was having none of it.

“You don’t understand! If we go back, they’ll swamp us. They'll pull us right down, I’m telling ya!”

“Knock it off,” she shot back. “Yer scarin' me.” Molly Brown stared at the others. “Come on girls, grab your oars. Let's go!”

Everybody bowed their heads. Mai kept her head bowed, too, as she covered her ears.

“Are you out of your mind?!” asked the officer. “We’re in the middle of the Northern Atlantic! Do you people want to live or do you wanna _die?_ ”

Molly looked around again. No one was willing to help. 

Mai couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I don't understand a one of you. What's the matter with you? It's your men out there! We got plenty a' room for more!”

“If you don't shut that hole in yer face, there'll be one less in this boat!”

Molly stared at the officer. Then, she sat back down.

She’d never admit it, but Mai hoped another lifeboat would go to them for help.

* * *

Harold Lowe had had an idea. He and his passengers had rowed his lifeboat a hundred and fifty yards away from the ship. Then, he had set his plan in motion.

He wasn’t going to let them down.

He was going to go back for them.

“Here, take this one.”

“Now bring all your oars over there! And tie these two boats together as well.”

The other crewmembers obliged. They tied the boats together. Three boats. Boats 10, 12 and Collapsible D. All together in a flotilla. They were almost ready. Just a moment more. Just a few moments more. Harold Lowe looked behind him, still pointing his beam of light at the scared people in the lifeboats. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

It was getting quiet.

And he knew what that meant.

There was a call for help in the dark. 

Somewhere. 

Out there.

Lowe’s mouth formed a thin line.

Then, he looked back at the crewmembers.

“Right! Listen to me, men! We have to go back! I want you to transfer all the women from this boat into that boat right now. As quick as you can, please. Let’s get some of them in. That’s it, like that. Hurry up, please. Hurry up!” 

They did. They divided their passengers in the other two lifeboats. They were going to do this. They were going back. They would save as many people as they could.

Lowe only hoped it wasn’t too late.

* * *

Silence was falling around them. There was nothing far to the horizon but shades of blue under the twinkling stars. There was no more fighting, only stillness. No. Wait. That wasn’t true. Those were cries. Calls for help. But they were so few. So few between. Katara knew what it meant. The people out there were dying. Slowly but surely. They were all dying. 

Katara shivered. It was cold. 

So cold.

“It's getting quiet,” said Katara.

“Just a few more m-m-minutes. It'll take them a while to get the boats organized.”

Katara rested her head against her forearms. She closed her eyes. He wanted to reassure her. But it wasn’t working. She didn’t believe Zuko. 

This was the end. 

It really was.

“I don't know about you...” 

At the sound of Zuko’s voice, she again focussed on him. Katara opened her eyes. She looked at him. A silhouette. Highlighted in blue. 

“...But I intend to write a s-s-strongly worded letter to the White Star Line ab-b-bout all this.”

She snorted. Zuko grinned. He grinned in the dark, lips parting to reveal his teeth.

His smile fell away when she whispered:

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Zuko’s mouth hung open. His eyes searched hers. 

Baffled.

“Whatever w-w-would you be sorry for?”

“I wish… I wish I could do more.”

She felt so useless. So powerless. She knew water. She knew it like no other. She was a _waterbender_ , for Spirits’ sake. And yet… There was no room to bend. And she was tired. So tired. She couldn’t… She couldn’t help him. They were all dying and she felt _useless._

“I wish I c-c-could be more.”

“No. No, no, no. Don’t say that. You’re enough. You’re amazing.”

“But… y-you’ve barely lived and… and now...”

“I’m happy, Katara.” 

When she looked into those eyes, she knew he was telling the truth. 

“I’m so, so happy. I’m with you. I g-g-get to be here with you. If… If it hadn’t been for you… I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be here. I would have j-j-jumped off that ship. Days ago. And even if I hadn’t… if I hadn’t jumped… I wouldn’t have… I would have missed out on s-s-so many things. I’ve lived more in the past f-f-few days than I have in my entire life. You showed me a world I never dreamed of before. _You_ did.”

He smiled again when he said:

“I’m happy. I’m so happy.”

“If you say so.”

“No. I don’t say so. I b-b-believe so. You saved me and now I’m s-s-saving you. Okay? That’s… That’s what we do, right? You jump, I jump? It means we… we save each other. Time... and time... and… and t-t-time again.”

“You save me and I save you.”

“Exactly.” 

There was a moment of silence. Katara lifted her head up.

She wasn’t going to sleep. She wasn’t.

This was too important.

She had to listen.

“D-D-Do you want to know w-w-why I jumped back?”

“Yes?”

“I did it… because… because I couldn’t bear the thought of… what my life without you w-w-would mean. Would have meant. I chose you. And… And if I had to do this again, if I had t-t-to start again, I wouldn’t ch-choose otherwise.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“No. I _choose_ you. I’d choose you every day.”

There were so many words she wanted to say. So many ideas were jumbled in her head. So many things she wanted to tell him. But nothing seemed enough. Nothing would be enough. Nothing would ever compare to what he was doing. Right now. 

He was choosing her. He’d chosen her. 

What was there to say to that? Only one thing. One thing that Katara was certain of.

“I love you, Zuko.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. Then his whole face turned soft. He leaned over, slowly as not to disturb their precarious balance. He kissed her. A peck on the lips. Then he rested his forehead - cold, so _cold_ \- against hers.

“I love you too. I love you so m-m-much. Trust me that I love you. But… Katara... don't say your goodbyes. Don't you give up. Don't do it.”

“I’m so… c-c-cold.”

“You're going to get out of th-this.” 

Zuko’s voice sounded so sure. So certain. 

“You're going to go on and you're g-g-going to make lots of babies and you’re going to watch them grow and you're going to die an... an o-old lady, warm in your b-b-bed. Not he-he-here. Not this n-n-night.” 

His hand rested on hers. Affirming. 

“D-D-Do you understand me?”

“I do. B-b-but… I want to do all of that with you.”

“Really?”

She managed a nod. “Really.”

“I… me too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” 

One of the things she wanted to say shone clearest in her mind. Like sunlight. A beacon of hope. A future. An idea of a future. Something she so desperately craved. A morning light that, right about now, felt like it would never come.

It felt like morning would never come.

But in this endless darkness, she could wish for a future she couldn’t grasp. She could try and touch it. If there was anything Katara could do, it was _try_.

“Do you know what I want?”

“Please. Tell me.”

“I want to survive. I want us to survive. Together. We’re going to get out of th-this, do you hear me? Together.” 

Katara willed her voice not to break. She had to say it. 

She had to. 

“I don’t care if I’m stealing your thunder. I’m saying it like this. We’re going to go on... and we're going to make babies together... and we’re going to watch them grow together and we're going to die as old people. Warm in our bed.” 

Her voice broke.

“Not he-he-here. Not this n-n-night.” 

She squeezed his hand. A reassuring smile appearing on her cold, so cold face. 

“D-D-Do you understand me?”

Zuko nodded.

“Understood. But…”

“No buts. You hear me? No b-b-buts.”

“Okay. Together.”

“Together.”

They stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime. And yet it was only a few seconds. Another idea appeared in her head. A question. Bright and soft and warm.

Would she ever feel warmth again? Would _he_ ever feel warmth again?

In any case. She had to ask him.

“Will you marry me, Zuko Kai?”

His jaw dropped. He looked at her, at her whole face. Stumped. Zuko was stumped. It seemed to take him a second to fully wrap his head what she’d asked him. A new weight rested on Katara’s shoulders, not the weight of her soaked clothes, but the weight of waiting. 

Then, he smiled so hard, his eyes sparkled in the dark.

“Am I not the one who’s s-s-supposed to ask you that?”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Since when have we been c-c-conventional?”

He laughed at that. Breathy. Raspy. 

In that voice of his she loved so much.

“Okay. Okay, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

The weight of waiting was lifted from her shoulders. Katara smiled.

He’d said yes. He’d said _yes!_

“I’ll m-m-marry you, Katara La. We’re gonna have a wedding in Chippewa Falls so your Gran-Gran and your Dad and Bato can be there. And we’re g-g-gonna have one in Kyoto, okay? That’s where I’m from. In Japan.”

“Okay. I like that.” 

Another idea sparked in her mind. 

“You talked about b-b-babies. Are there any names y-you like?”

“Hm, let me t-think.” 

Zuko squinted his eyes. Then, he cocked his head to the side. As if considering a name. And he was. She knew he was. 

“How about Izumi?”

Katara shivered again. “It’s… b-b-beautiful.”

“It means ‘spring’ or ‘fountain’. Water, b-b-basically. It makes me t-t-think of you.”

“Really? Aw. That’s sweet.”

Katara searched for another name. She looked at Zuko. At his honest face. She remembered the boy from the railing. The boy who had wanted to jump. When she’d met him at first, he’d looked like he was so vulnerable. Like he was uncomfortable in his own skin. But now, in front of her, was a man who had accepted every part of himself, who was certain of his love for her. He was a different person from the one she’d met so few days ago. He was proud and strong and smart and kind and compassionate.

He was a person her mother would have loved so dearly.

“My Mom’s name was Kya.”

“That’s lovely.” 

Zuko leaned his cheek against their hands, clasped together. Growing tired. 

“Okay. So Izumi and Kya. What about a b-b-boy?”

“Iroh. For Uncle.”

He nodded. Lifting his head up. 

“Good. I’m sure he’ll like that.”

Katara put her tongue between her teeth. There was so much more she wanted to say. Not all her thoughts could be formed into words, most still fluttering around in her mind. But she grabbed one, she grabbed one like she would grab a small little bird, gentle and scared and oh so, so very fragile. Katara held on to that thought and she willed herself to make her mouth say it. She _had_ to say it. She had to. 

“Zuko? I have to tell you something. Something important.” 

“Yes? I’m listening.”

“Winning that ticket was the b-b-best thing that ever happened to me.”

Zuko blinked. He exhaled. 

“It was?”

“It was. I don’t know if it was thanks to… to my lucky star or fate or destiny or just plain old luck. But I know it brought me to you. And I’m th-thankful. I'm so thankful.”

“I’m th-th-thankful, too.”

Then, Zuko was the one who was quiet for a moment. Considering. Searching. His voice was getting fainter in her ears. But she heard him clear as day. Zuko whispered: 

“Katara… You must do me this honor... _promise me_ you will survive... that you will never g-g-give up... no m-m-matter what happens... no matter h-h-how hopeless. Promise me now, and never let g-g-go of that promise. Because it’s what you t-t-taught me.”

“I promise.”

He kissed her hand. “Never let go.”

“I promise. I’ll never let go, Zuko. I'll never let go.”

He fell silent, resting his chin on their hands. 

Katara closed her eyes. 

She waited.

* * *

Everything was so dark.

Dark as the sky, dark as the sea.

Tinged with blue, tinged with white. Glimpses of colours that only made his stomach churn. Abandoned chairs floated in his beam of light… and then they came into sight. 

Bodies. 

So many bodies… 

Harold Lowe pointed his light towards the calm, so calm sea. Nothing - no one, they had been people before… before _this_ \- was moving. No one. It was calm, so calm. Calm and quiet. They’d saved… they’d saved a few passengers. They’d taken them out of those cold waters. And yet… it hadn’t been enough.

Surely… Surely there could still be someone else out there?

“Oars!”

Following Lowe’s shout, the other crewmembers lifted the oars.

“Can you see any moving?”

Their lifeboat glided around the sea of people. Careful. They had to be careful. They couldn’t… They couldn’t hit them. These people deserved better.

“No, sir. Nothing’s moving, sir.”

Not nothing. These were… These had been people.

“Check them! Bring them up here.”

Lowe looked. He looked at them… frozen in time. 

“Check to make sure,” whispered someone.

One of the crewmembers leaned overboard. He grabbed a woman by her lifebelt straps. Her eyes were wide, here skin grey, her hair covered in ice crystals.

“These are dead, sir.”

Lowe nodded.

“Now give way. And head easy.”

They started again. Slowly. Painfully slowly. Pushing bodies out of their path. Careful not to let the oars hit them. As instructed by Lowe.

“Is there anyone alive out there?” he called.

No answer.

Lowe huffed. He had to try again.

“Can anyone hear me? Is anyone alive out there?”

Lowe’s heart dropped when he found a woman holding her child.

“We waited too long.”

His voice cracked. They had. They’d…

No. Surely there was still someone out there. Someone alive. Waiting.

“We’ll keep checking them! Keep looking!”

They continued again. His voice echoed far away. For miles.

“Is there anyone alive out there? Can anyone hear me?”

* * *

Katara waited. 

She waited for a long time. She waited until there was no sound left. Then, Katara turned herself skyward, looking up at the stars. 

She had to distract herself. She couldn’t fall asleep.

A song came to mind.

Not the secret tunnel one, though.

“Come Josephine in my flying machine and it’s up, she goes, up, she goes…”

She sang. She sang for a very long time. She sang that song, and some of Sokka’s songs, and all those cheesy love songs her father would sing to her mother. She sang for herself, for the billion stars shining in the inky black sky. Most of the time, she only mumbled the words. Or barely moved her lips.

It counted as singing. To her, anyway.

Katara felt it, at first. 

A ripple in the water. 

She turned her head. Slowly. So slowly. The ice crystals creaked in her hair. Katara blinked. Focussing on… something. 

What was that?

She was seeing that… that something. There was a silhouette. Out there. 

Long and wide. 

A boat. 

There was a boat. 

A yellow beam of light shone in the dark. Men were on it. Screaming. They were screaming. She saw them yell but couldn’t quite hear them. Katara felt hope rise up in her chest again. It flared in her. There was a boat. They’d come back.

They’d come back for them!

Katara moved, slower than she wanted to. But she did. She moved. She turned to Zuko. His head was still resting against his forearms. She shook his hands.

“Zuko.”

Her voice was hoarse. Faint. She cleared her throat. Tried again.

“Zuko!”

He didn’t move. 

She frowned. Why wasn’t he moving? Couldn’t he hear her?

“Zuko, there’s a boat, Zuko!” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Zuko!”

Nothing. No reaction.

That was when… That was when it dawned on her. 

He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t answering.

It was so cold. So _cold_. 

He was… 

He was… 

If Katara could cry, she would have.

Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

“No! No, Zuko…”

The last few sparks of hope in her heart died. 

He was gone. She was sure of it.

Katara closed her eyes. 

What was the point?

Zuko was gone. 

And what about the others? What about Sokka? What about Suki and Jet and Aang and Iroh? She didn’t know where they were. They could be dead. They could be in these very waters. Or they could have been crushed by the ship. 

They could all be dead. 

Her friends, her brother, the love of her life. Her family.

They could all be dead.

Katara rested her head against her hands. She closed her eyes.

Dead. They could all be dead.

What was the point?

Katara was giving up. 

Until she heard a call in the dark.

“Is anyone out there? Can anybody hear me?”

They were looking. They were looking for survivors.

They were looking for _her_.

Katara lifted her head up. She remembered. She remembered the promise she’d made to Zuko. What was she… What was she _doing?_ She wasn’t… She wasn’t supposed to let go. She wasn’t supposed to give up! She had to get out of here. She had to survive. She turned towards the boat. It was going away. Katara called out to them.

“Come back! Please, come back! I’m right here! Come… back.”

They were too far. They wouldn’t hear her.

Her voice was small. So small.

Katara looked around. Her eyes landed on the man with the whistle. He was motionless, his whistle still in his mouth. Hope sparked in her once again.

She turned to Zuko. 

“I’ll never let go.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll never let go, Zuko.” 

She kissed his cold hands. They were cold. So cold…

“I’ll never let go,” she repeated. “I promise.”

Katara jumped in the water. She swam. She swam and swam and swam. She swam with desperation. With the last few shreds of strength left in her body. She thought she felt the ocean pushing her forward, helping its Girl of Water. But she couldn’t be sure. 

Katara snatched the whistle from the man’s mouth.

She whistled.

* * *

Asami watched as Katara opened her eyes. 

She looked every single one of her one hundred and two years. 

Asami could almost hear the whistle.

She could almost hear it. She could almost hear its piercing sound. Cutting through the night. Cutting through the air, travelling, desperately travelling, towards the last lifeboat. She could almost picture herself pulling its cold metal into her mouth. 

But no. There was no whistle. No hissing sound. No call for help. There was nothing but the gurgling of the water around them and the buzzing and beeping of the machines. Asami was brought out of the story by the sudden half-silence. It weighed down on her, pulling her down. Down and forward. Asami bent forward. Head bowed. Closing her eyes, she breathed. She concentrated on her breathing. Asami rubbed her hands together. 

It felt cold in here. All of a sudden. It felt… 

It felt _cold_. 

Had it felt like that? That night? 

That overwhelming cold? A cold that numbed the senses?

Then, Asami blinked. She’d been… She’d been crying.

How long had she been crying? She didn’t remember when it had started. And yet… yet here she was. She blinked away tears. Asami rubbed at her eyes.

To think… these people…

Zuko…

She wanted… In that moment, she wanted nothing more than what they’d had. A love so strong, so powerful, that it had transcended time and space. She could see love in Katara’s eyes. Love and sadness and pain. A love brought along by… what had she said again? Her lucky star or fate or destiny or, perhaps, plain old luck.

Theirs had been a spark. A spark of love so strong… 

So strong. And yet. 

It was a spark that hadn’t been allowed to burn.

A lump appeared in Asami’s throat. She swallowed around it, finding it hard to breathe. Asami straightened up her back. She looked around. She looked at her crew, at her friends and… and at Korra. She didn’t exactly know what Korra meant to her just yet. But she meant a lot, too. And in that moment, everyone was crying. Everyone from Mako, to Bolin, to Korra, to Teo, to everyone else. They’d all shared the same tears.

Asami wiped at her eyes.

“Fifteen hundred people went into the sea when _Titanic_ sank from under us,” said Katara, voice thick with emotion. She bit her lip. Then, she continued: “There were twenty boats floating nearby and only one came back.” 

Katara closed her eyes.

“One.”

That word would haunt Asami forever.

“So few were saved from those waters. Myself included.”

This was it. The story was over.

No one talked. 

No one knew what to say.

What was there to say? What was there left to say?

It felt real, now. Not just a story. Not just something you told kids around a campfire. Not just an idea. Not just a possibility for treasure. 

It was real.

Tangible.

Asami could feel it. She could grasp it, now.

Katara looked at them for a long time. Her eyes shone. She looked down at her hands. She must still remember the feeling of the handcuffs on her wrists. Of the water rising in the Master At Arms’ room. Of being torn away from him. 

She must still remember.

There were so many things Asami wanted to say. 

She started with:

“I…”

She never had the time to finish.

She was interrupted. 

A roar shook the ship. A bellow. A howl. Fierce. Powerful. Asami felt it through her bones. It came from somewhere outside. Somewhere above them. Around them. Chasing away the silence, filling every inch of space with _sound_. Until it died down. Asami frowned, looking up. Everyone did the same. Looking around, looking up. 

What was that? 

The roar of a helicopter, perhaps? Or a plane? 

No. 

That didn’t make any sense. It was too loud… too close. A plane or a helicopter? Out on the open ocean? But… they were alone out here. They hadn’t been expecting…?

A soft smile appeared on Katara’s face.

There was a twinkle. A tiny twinkle. In her eye.

Oh.

She knew. Katara knew.

Katara knew something they didn’t know.

She cocked her head to the side before she said:

“Ah!” 

Her voice had turned teasing. A stark contrast against her story’s cold, harsh end. 

Yes, Katara knew. She knew what was up. 

What - or, perhaps, _who_ \- had caused that roar.

Asami had a feeling this story wasn’t quite over yet.

“I think my guests have finally arrived.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about that cliffhanger. But for... plot purposes... I simply HAD to end here. You'll see.
> 
> I hope I described the horror of this tragedy respectfully. These poor people. From my research for this fic: None of the engineers survived. They all remained on the ship to maintain the electricity. Frederick Fleet, the lookout, survived. And once he returned to his hometown of Barmouth, a reception was held in honor of Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, who was gifted a commemorative gold watch, and a plaque in his honor still stands in Barmouth to this day. 
> 
> So. Who do you think are the guests? 
> 
> Next week: We meet our guests and our story is almost over.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

* * *

_Oh, I’m slipping underneath_

_Oh, so cold and so sweet_

* * *

What was going on?

Asami watched. She couldn’t help but watch. She watched as Katara rose up from her seat, that smile still firmly in place on her face. She watched as she lifted a hand, gesturing at them to leave her be. She watched as Katara sat in her wheelchair and she watched as Korra pushed her along. Through the laboratory. And outside.

Asami followed as everyone trailed after Katara and Korra. On their way to the deck, they all shared quizzical looks. What in the Spirits’ names was going on? What had they planned that _no one_ , and she meant _no one_ knew about? Everyone from her crew, though. Korra didn’t seem able to meet Asami’s eyes. They walked out on deck into the sunset, the sky on fire, covered in pinks and oranges. They walked down the deck to the helipad, at the back of the ship. Asami stared. She stared. And stared.

There was no helicopter, there. Nor plane. No. 

Asami couldn’t… She… What…

There was a… there was a… _dragon._ On her ship. A dragon of flesh and blood, red and gold and magnificent. It looked at them with intelligent eyes. One of the first firebenders. Asami, Bolin and Mako dropped to the floor in matching kowtows. The dragon made a growling noise. Almost like… like an acknowledgment. After a few seconds, Asami looked up. The dragon bowed its head at them. 

Yes. It was acknowledging them.

She rose up, shoving Mako’s shoulder, who shoved Bolin’s shoulder. Soon, the three of them were all standing. With the crew behind them.

“Hello, Druk,” said Katara. “How are you?”

They watched as the dragon flapped its elegant wings. Asami had the sudden urge to pull Katara back. This old, frail little elderly lady who was so, so impossibly small as she stood in front of this enormous beast. Asami had this inconceivable notion Katara was going to get crushed. Or eaten. Right before their eyes.

But no. That was not what happened. 

Druk licked Katara’s whole face. She chuckled.

“Oh, yes, I’m happy to see you too!”

“Now, now, I’m happy about this little reunion, here, but can anyone help us down?”

Asami looked up. She’d forgotten there were still people on Druk’s back. When Druk brought its wings against its flanks, Asami’s eyes shot up to her hairline. There really were people on that dragon. 

Two people. 

Sitting there.

A short woman with iron gray hair made a hand gesture from up on the dragon’s back, a knowing smirk on her face. Walking forward, Mako offered Toph his strong arms. He helped her down. She huffed. Impatient.

“Have I ever told you guys I absolutely hate flying on this dragon?”

Toph walked over to Katara. With a grin, she punched her shoulder. 

Katara rumbled a laugh.

“I think you did. Twenty times already.”

“Hi, Auntie Toph,” greeted Korra, pulling her into a hug.

“Hi, Korra, honey.”

They hugged.

Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Asami’s brain felt mush. Confused.

Auntie Toph? 

_The_ Toph?

So Toph… yes. Toph had been in one of the lifeboats. So she’d survived the sinking.

But who…?

Together as one, the entire crew of treasure hunters turned towards the other person who jumped down from the dragon.

With a chuckle, Katara opened her arms wide. She welcomed the tall, thin figure that wore a hooded coat, somewhat shielding their face. 

Asami looked closer. 

She squinted her eyes. 

Hard. 

There was something… familiar about that person. But how could it be? She’d never seen them before. She was pretty sure of that. And yet…! There was something… something so… familiar… she couldn’t quite put her finger on it...

Wait. 

What was that over that person’s left eye? 

A shadow?

Asami’s jaw dropped. Her eyes grew wide. Threatening to pop out of their sockets.

“No way.”

Katara turned around with a knowing smile.

“Enjoying the view?”

Realization dawned on the members of the crew. One by one.

“But… But…!” Mako’s jaw touched the deck’s floor. “I did my research! I never found him in any record! No archive, no newspaper, no census! Nothing!” 

One by one.

“And he…!” Bolin pointed a shaky finger. “He wasn’t in any of the pictures!” 

And one by one.

“And what…!” Teo looked just as flabbergasted. “How did he…? How did you…?”

“It’s quite easy to hide a person’s real identity,” explained the man. 

As if it was that easy.

Two bony, spotted hands reached up. He pushed his hood away. 

Yes. 

Yes, that was him.

Zuko.

He looked exactly as Katara had described him, though almost a century older. His face was pointed, still sharp after all these years. His scar was a deep burgundy color, stretching over his left eye and around his ear. Zuko’s long white hair was pulled back behind his ears and the rest cascaded down his back. A smile tugged at his lips.

He was beautiful.

As previously described.

What struck Asami, though, were his eyes. Katara had been right. They were golden. 

Twin setting suns. Molten gold. 

They seemed as quick-witted as he had been in his youth. 

Asami’s mouth opened and closed. Opened and closed. He’d… He’d… But he was… he was supposed to be…! And they’d…! They’d lied…!

The only words she could find were:

“But… why?” asked Asami.

“We had to,” answered Katara. 

Simply.

So simply.

Katara wrapped an arm around Zuko’s. When he didn’t seem to find that comfortable, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead. And she leaned into his side. A small, content smile spread on her face. She looked… happy. So happy. So different from the elderly lady from below deck, the one who had told them that story.

No.

She was still that elderly lady.

She was still that elderly lady who had been on Titanic, who had fought for her life, who had carried that trauma, who had lived that tragedy.

She seemed lighter. And yet she still carried that weight.

But it seemed it was easier to carry when you weren’t alone.

“You had to?” parroted Bolin. 

Katara nodded. 

“We had to.”

“That’s…” Mako blinked. “I have so many questions.”

“I have no doubts that you do, Mako. Oh!” Katara put a hand against her mouth. “I almost forgot to mention. My husband here has been on a business trip for the past few days.” 

She turned to him. 

“How was Kyoto, darling? I know you love it this time of year.”

“I love Kyoto throughout the year. And it was beautiful, thank you, darling.”

Asami arched an eyebrow.

Something… bugged her about this. 

Call it her feminist intuition, probably. Yeah, call it that.

“So you stay home while your husband is away?”

“Oh, dear, no!” 

Katara waved a hand. 

“I was supposed to go with him to Kyoto. But then of course, I gave you a call. We felt it was more beneficial for Zuko to go alone while I came here. You know, we were supposed to all meet in Kyoto, actually. Kya is currently travelling in Argentina, Izumi is on a beach in the Philippines and Iroh is in Kyoto.”

Bolin cocked his head to the side. “Who?”

“Our children, of course.” 

“Oh!” His face broke into a smile. “Of course!”

“Hey, Katara? You’ll find this so funny… Um…”

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. He shot Katara a nervous smile.

“Actually…!”

It was Katara’s turn to look surprised.

“Oh, no! You didn’t…!”

“I did.”

“Zuko!”

“What?” cut in Mako, growing impatient. “He did what?”

“I... told them to come here. They should be here…” 

He glanced at his wristwatch.

“About…” 

Zuko didn’t have time to finish. He was interrupted by a groan. Coming from the sky. 

Zuko grinned. 

“About now, actually.”

They all looked up. Something appeared. A silhouette, dark against the setting sun. At first, it was the size of a penny, until it started to grow larger. And larger. And larger. Until it was about the size of the dragon. But whilst the dragon was snake-like, elongated and elegant, this one was bulky, broad and… fuzzy. It looked impossibly… fuzzy.

“Holy shit,” whispered Bolin.

“You can say that again,” said Asami, nudging him with her elbow.

“That’s a…!” Teo swallowed. “That’s a…!”

“Yep,” smiled Korra. “It is.”

A _Sky Bison._ They were all looking at an actual, real, honest to Agni _Sky Bison._ It flew on the wind, legs kicking it forward, horns shining in the light. The Bison soon landed on deck. Heavy. That... _thing_ was _so_ heavy. And _huge!_ The ship shook from under them, sending a fear down Asami’s spine. But the water calmed and everything settled. Only gently rocked by the gentle waves. It was enormous, with beige-white and brown fur that looked soft, so damn soft, and too many legs to count. 

“Hey, Oogi,” smiled Katara. “How are you, buddy?”

Oogi groaned.

And Asami watched. She couldn’t help but watch.

She watched as people slid down the side of the Sky Bison. Landing gracefully on deck. Four new people Asami had never met in her entire life. And knowing that they had a _Sky Bison_ of all things, now she wasn’t that Two women and two men. All gray or white-haired, maybe twenty or so years younger than Katara, Zuko and Toph. Though for eighty-year-olds, they looked quite… agile.

“I told you we’d find the ship,” said one of the women, the splitting image of Katara, but with Zuko’s eyes. “And you didn’t trust my navigation skills!”

“And who got us lost while we were flying over Québec?” asked one of the men.

“Shut up.”

Asami’s flabbergasted eyes landed on Katara. She looked positively glowing, at ease, at peace. Her eyes shone with wet pride. Her tribe was all there. Gathered here on this deck.

She opened her arms wide and welcomed in the other man.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom.”

Katara wrapped each and every one of them, one by one, in matching bone-crushing hugs. With a strength Asami hadn’t witnessed before. She didn’t look frail anymore. 

She looked happy. So happy.

Katara pushed the last one away and stared at them all. Hands clasped together.

“I missed you so much. How was your trip?”

“Pretty good, thank you for asking.”

“Well, my back is killing me!”

At that, they all rolled their eyes.

“We know, Tenzin. We know.”

Zuko chuckled, one fist in front of his mouth. Then, he lifted a hand.

“Shall I introduce you?” 

“Please do,” nodded Asami approvingly.

“Everyone, meet Izumi, Kya, and Iroh. Firebender, waterbender and non-bender. Respectively. Izumi, Kya, Iroh, meet… everyone.” 

“Hello.”

“Hi!”

“Nice to meet you.”

“And this grouchy fella here is Tenzin,” said Toph, wrapping an arm around his. “My son.”

“One of your sons.”

“Yes, yes, one of my sons. My youngest, specifically.”

Then something shifted in Katara’s eyes. There was a moment when Katara stared at them. Mouth agape. Then she put her fists on her hips and said: 

“What about my great-grandkids? You didn’t leave them alone, did you?”

“Of course we did, Auntie Katara,” said Tenzin sarcastically. He even rolled his eyes. “We left them all by themselves.”

When she glared at him, Tenzin gulped.

“All right, all right! I’m just kidding. They’re at the Air Temples.”

Katara’s expression turned soft. She grinned.

“Good.”

The sun continued its course in the sky, becoming a fiery orange as night soon approached. For a short while, no one said anything. At a loss for words.

Asami cleared her throat.

“So… Huh...”

She couldn’t form a coherent sentence at the moment. Her mouth hung open. Trying to say… something. Anything. Asami tried to piece together the last pieces of this strange puzzle. This strange puzzle that was named Katara La. And Zuko Kai, too, she figured. But she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. How could she reconcile this image she had in her mind, this image of a young Katara in those cold waters, whistling for help… alone… while Zuko and all those she’d known could be _dead_ … and yet, now… here they were?

“I think you guys killed their brains,” pointed out Toph.

Asami ignored her. She looked up. Fast.

“Wait!” 

A sudden anger flared inside her. Asami rounded on Korra. 

“You knew about this? You lied to me, too! You’re a fucking liar!” 

Korra raised both hands up. 

“Hey, don’t look at me! I was sworn to secrecy!”

Asami’s hands formed into fists. She should be happy. And yet… she felt cheated.

“Oh, Asami.”

At the sound of Katara’s soft voice, Asami looked up at her. That sympathetic look on her face - not pity, no, but _sympathy_ \- made her anger evaporate. Leaving nothing but… a form of peace. A questioning peace. But peace nonetheless.

“What?”

“Korra didn’t lie to you.”

Asami looked from Korra to Katara. From Korra to Katara. Back and forth. Asami arched an eyebrow. She still had trouble believing that.

“She didn’t?”

“No. She only told you the truth.”

Asami frowned.

“But…!”

Zuko snorted.

“Well, _half_ the truth.”

Katara rested a hand on Zuko’s arm. She rolled her eyes.

Yep. She actually _rolled her eyes._

“That’s because I didn’t have the time to finish our story, darling.”

“Right, right.”

Asami stopped looking at Katara, then. She looked at Zuko instead.

He was alive.

He’d survived.

Somehow.

When he saw her staring, Zuko waved at Asami, then he sent Korra a glance. Korra herself kept looking at Asami. Almost against her own will, Asami sent a glance at Korra. They stared at each other. For a moment too long. 

Zuko chuckled.

“Has my friend Korra given you her telephone number yet?” He looked between the two of them. _Pointedly_. “I’m sure she’d like to keep in touch after this.”

“Uncle Zuko!” snapped Korra. 

Asami couldn’t help it. She chuckled.

“I _have_ given her my phone number already, actually,” grinned Asami.

Korra pouted, arms crossed over her chest.

“Traitor.”

Katara leaned against Zuko’s side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His hand rubbed circles on her back. A small, content smile spread on her face. He bent down slightly, whispering something in her hair. That content smile of hers spread on her face. Reaching her ears. She whispered:

“I love you too. Every morning and every night.”

There was something… final about the way she’d said those words. Those weighted words. Brought down by gravity. By tragedy.

Katara turned to Asami, then. She clasped her hands together.

“How about we finish our trip down memory lane, Asami?”

* * *

They weren’t coming. They weren’t coming back.

That was Katara’s greatest fear.

That fear gnawed at her. Eating her from the inside.

Still, she never stopped whistling.

She never stopped whistling. She never stopped whistling as her feet kicked against the cold water. She never stopped whistling as one hand held her steady against the man’s frozen body. Holding her up. No. Katara never stopped whistling. She had to be heard. They couldn’t… They couldn’t leave her here. They couldn’t. 

She had to make it. She had to survive.

She’d promised him.

Katara whistled. And whistled and whistled and whistled. She whistled… until a light turned around. Landing on her. Blinding her.

They were coming. They were coming back,

They’d found her.

Yes. They had _found_ her. 

They’d found Katara. 

She was safe. 

The whistle fell from her lips as she was lifted out of the water and into the lifeboat. For a moment, all she could see was the night sky, spinning and spinning in her eyes. Then she was settled down in the lifeboat. She saw a group of anxious faces staring back at her. So few… There were so few of them. A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. Her skin was so cold, she barely felt it. She rubbed ice crystals out of her hair. Mechanically.

“Please, Miss, you have to tell me,” said the officer in charge in a thick Welsh accent. She’d later learn he was Fifth Officer Harold Lowe, but for now, Katara didn’t know his name. “Do you know if there’s anyone alive out there?”

He looked desperate. Desperate for good news.

“I… I don’t know.”

She turned towards the man with the whistle. He must have had family, friends.

She hoped he would be identified. One day.

Her eyes landed on… on that door. The door that had saved her life. The door he hadn’t been able to share, the one… the one he was still clinging to. She couldn’t see him right now. Not when it was so dark. Not when he was turning his back to her.

“Wait. Let me see that man. One last time.”

“What man?”

“That one.”

She pointed. The officer nodded.

Their lifeboat retreated in the water, floating back towards him. Katara leaned over the side. Her eyes filled with tears, she looked down at the water one last time. Zuko came into view. Still curled around the door. Water spun him around. Making him face her.

Her eyes focussed on his face. 

She gasped.

Katara pushed herself flush against the side of the lifeboat. She pointed. 

“I saw him blink! I saw him blink!”

Heavy silence followed her hopeful exclamation. She felt eyes piercing through her. No one wanted to tell her of the inevitable. 

“He’s dead, Miss,” said one of the crewmembers. “That’s impossible.”

Anger flashed in Katara. 

She’d promised him. She wasn’t going to let Zuko go. 

So with gritted teeth, she put herself in the man’s face and pulled hard on his collar. Nose to nose, she said, voice ringing loud and clear in the cold night air:

“You listen to me, all right? I’m not leaving him! He saved my life on that ship and I’m going to save him too! Now I’m going to forget you just said that and _you’re_ going to get this man in this boat! Either that or I’m doing it myself!”

“You heard her?” said another man. 

She turned around. It was the officer in charge.

“Come on, men, do as the young lady says. Besides, aren’t we here to get more survivors? Get that man out of the water!”

The other crewmembers nodded. They managed to lift Zuko out of this cold, cold, so cold water, though his body looked like it was frozen solid. His legs stuck out and his arms were still wrapped around each other. With his chin resting on his forearms. Katara swallowed. She had to assess the situation quickly. 

He was blue, so blue. 

Her hands touched his torso. She pushed aside his coat. Her palms rested over his heart. Over his shirt. The white fabric cracked like ice. Sharp and painful - a thousand knives digging into her skin - under her hands. One of her hands moved to his neck. Two fingers around his throat. Zuko was cold, so cold… but Katara could feel a heartbeat. 

A heartbeat. She felt a heartbeat.

Faint. 

But there. 

Her hand rested once more on his chest. She pressed down, his shirt cracking even more. There was a tiny spot of warmth inside his belly. A teeny tiny flicker of warmth.

His inner flame had kept him alive. 

Spirits bless firebenders, Katara thought silently. But if she didn’t act quickly, his fire was going to run out. She reached a hand over the side of the lifeboat. Water answered her call, gloving her hands. People ooohed at the sight of her waterbending. But others seemed… scared. They gasped. In hushed tones.

Being different scared people. It always did.

“Witchcraft!”

Far away, she heard the officer in charge snap at another man.

“It’s waterbending and she’s saving that man’s life. Now show her some respect!”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

Katara didn’t pay any more attention to them. Her hands hovered above his torso. 

She hesitated.

No, that wouldn’t do.

She turned to the officer in charge and pointed at Zuko with her chin.

“Open his shirt.”

“Yes, Miss.”

Grabbing a knife from his pocket, the officer started to cut away at the frozen shirt. Revealing Zuko’s torso. It was blue. Except for a spot. Over his heart.

Katara’s hands found their way to his skin. His cold, cold skin. She couldn’t think about that cold. She couldn’t. Katara pushed all those thoughts away. She couldn’t take her time. She had a job to do. Katara focussed on Zuko. She focussed on his inner fire. She focussed on his smile, on his breathing, on his love for life. She focussed on him. 

She spread her hands over his chest. 

She closed her eyes… reached inside… 

And _healed._

Water glowed bright blue around her palms. The same water that had almost killed him was going to save his life. There must have been some irony in that.

Katara took in a deep breath. 

Katara remembered… She remembered her waterbending lessons. Healing had been one of the first lessons she’d been taught before…

Before Hama had...

She couldn’t help but remember. She remembered it in flashes. Flashes of a simpler time. She’d been running with Sokka that day. Playing some game. She couldn’t remember which one. Katara couldn’t have been older than six-years-old. Then she’d fallen to the ground and had opened her knee on a piece of rusting metal sticking out of the grass. A crying Katara had sat down on the ground while Sokka ran to find Mom and Dad. 

But then something incredible had happened.

Katara had reached for the water in the air. She still didn’t quite know how she’d done it. But pain and anguish had made her desperate. Desperate to use all her abilities. As best as she could. Then she’d reached for the blood trickling down. She’d reached for the torn skin in her knee. Katara had knitted her own flesh back together. 

Piece by piece.

“Oh, look at you,” had said a voice.

Katara had raised her head. A woman was standing above her. Blocking out the sun. Katara had stopped crying. Immediately. 

Oh. Oh, oh.

Someone had seen. Someone had seen, someone had seen, someone had seen! She was going to get in so much trouble with Mom and Dad. She hadn’t been careful and now…

She’d hurt herself. 

“Hello, child. You’re a waterbender.” 

“I… Yes. I am.”

“That’s good. What’s your name, little one?”

“Katara.”

The woman had crouched next to her. Smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Katara. My name is Hama. I’m new around here.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I’m your new neighbour. And look.”

She’d waved a hand and water had gloved her fingers.

“I’m like you, too.”

Katara had blinked, staring at Hama with her big blue eyes.

“You are?”

“Hm, hm. And I can even teach you how to do that.”

“How did I… what did I do?”

“You’ve healed yourself. We waterbenders have this ability. But only the greatest could do this at such a young age. You’re going to do great things, Katara. I know it.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I believe that. Water is healing and life.”

_Water is healing and life._

Healing and life.

But fire was life, too.

He had taught her that.

_You’re going to do great things, Katara._

She hoped Hama had been right.

Katara opened her eyes. Her hands on his chest still glowed. Bright blue. Casting strange shadows around her and illuminating the crewmembers and survivors’ scared faces. Katara closed her eyes once more. 

She felt her healing at work. She felt her way through his body. 

She felt her way through his chest, through his limbs, through his arms and legs, through to the tip of his toes. She felt her way through his heart, through his lungs, through his organs. She felt her way through his mind. Repairing, mending, healing.

She healed.

Katara’s hands glowed. They glowed and glowed and glowed.

Seconds ticked by. He wasn’t waking up, he wasn’t waking up, he wasn’t waking up. Katara felt her eyelids grow heavy, but fought the urge to sleep. There was no time. She wasn’t going to let go. She wasn’t. 

She’d promised.

For a long, so long moment, there was nothing but the blue night, the twinkling stars and the survivors and crewmembers gazing at her sadly, regretfully, mournfully. There was nothing but Katara reaching for Zuko… and him not answering. 

But just as she was about to lose hope... 

His heartbeat quickened in his chest. Colour flooded him, washing away the blue in his skin. Katara felt the fire in him roar to life. He gulped in the air, back arching. His eyes snapped open. A hand wrapped around her wrist. 

Warm. Blissfully warm. 

Katara looked at him. She smiled, tears falling from her eyes. 

He was alive! He was going to make it!

But then he closed his eyes. And rested his body against the lifeboat’s floor.

Katara only then allowed herself to panic.

“Zuko? Look at me. Zuko!”

“Don’t worry. He’s going to be all right, Miss.”

She looked up. Officer Lowe was nodding. Looking her in the eyes.

“Give him a second. He needs rest. Then he’ll be all right.”

Katara licked her lips.

“You believe that?”

“I _know_ that. After that feat of waterbending? I know that.”

Katara breathed out in relief. 

“Thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Katara La.”

“It’s good to meet you, Katara La. I’m Harold Lowe.”

Katara dropped the water back where it belonged. In the ocean. She sat next to Zuko, her back against the side of the lifeboat, and rested his head on her lap. Like a pillow. A blanket was wrapped around Zuko and she bended the ice out of his hair. Dropping it in the water too. Then, they started on their way. They looked for more survivors. For a few minutes only. But it was no use. Zuko’s firebending had kept him alive. It had shielded him from hypothermia. But no one else had been as lucky to be born as he was, it had seemed. 

So Officer Lowe decided it was time to leave.

It took them a long time to leave the site of the sinking. Their lifeboat precariously glided through the waters, pushed along by the oars. They had to be careful. So careful. Katara kept her eyes glued to Zuko. She focussed on his no-longer-cold clothes, his chest heaving with every breath… She focussed on his face, his closed eyes, his nose, his mouth, his jawline, his scar. She focussed on him.

She didn’t want to see… She couldn’t bear seeing… 

Deep breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

Katara ran her hand through his hair. His soft hair.

He was alive.

He’d told her goodbye. He’d been so certain… He’d told her he was happy to spend his last moments with her. And then… he hadn’t. He was alive.

She ran her hand against his chest. Fondness filled her. Replacing fear.

Zuko was a fighter. 

He hadn’t given up.

And she hadn’t given up on him either.

They saved each other. Time and time again.

“Katara?”

Katara froze.

She’d heard him. She’d heard his whisper in that raspy voice of his. 

His voice. It was his _voice._

She’d never heard a more beautiful sound.

For a moment, Katara couldn’t talk. Her throat closed up. She blinked away tears of joy. His eyes were open. Barely open. They stared at each other. It was true, it was real. _He_ was real. He was alive. He was looking at her. Looking back at her.

His eyes. 

They were open. 

His golden, lovely golden eyes.

“Hey. How do you feel?”

“Um… good. I think. What… Where am I?”

“Safe. You’re safe.”

“But… but… I…!”

“Shhh.” 

Her knuckles pushed some hair out of his eyes. Gentle.

“I know. It’s okay. _You’re_ okay. You’re going to be okay. I took care of it.”

Her hand reached up to cup his scarred cheek. He smiled into her palm. 

He was warm, he was so warm…! 

He was alive. 

His fire hadn’t burned out.

“You’re amazing,” whispered Zuko. “You know that?”

With a chuckle, Katara leaned forward and kissed his lips. She kissed him softly, sweetly, without caring about the awkward angle. She didn’t care that they had an audience, either. She didn’t care that people were looking. That people were seeing. That people were watching. There was nothing in this world that could keep them apart. Not his family, not society, and definitely not that iceberg.

Katara moved aside, putting their foreheads together. All she cared about was Zuko. Katara looked into his eyes. Smiling. They smiled at each other.

She felt his breath on her lips.

He was breathing. He was _alive_.

“Thank you, Katara.” 

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

* * *

Halfway through the night, as they still sailed in endless shadows under the twinkling stars, Officer Lowe stood at the front of the lifeboat. He lifted one arm, hand wrapped around a flare. Its green light rose in wisps into the sky. 

By that point, Zuko felt comfortable enough to sit up. He lit up a ball of fire in his palm, orange and yellow and _warm_ , warming them all up. Survivors eagerly lifted their hands near the flames. Not for long, though. He soon needed more rest. The two of them, along with the other survivors and some of the crewmembers taking turns, slept in the lifeboat. Exhausted. Zuko was the first one to wake up, with the sun of course. Dawn broke upon the horizon, light orange chasing away the blue of the night.

Morning. It was morning.

They’d survived until morning.

Now, he knew, everything would be okay.

Meanwhile, Katara rose up with the moon, so now it was her time to rest. Above them, the sky burned in bright oranges and pinks. Zuko looked at Katara. He still didn’t quite understand how she’d brought him back, but she had. Zuko concentrated on his breathing. He breathed in the cold ocean air, he breathed in the feeling of warmth and sunshine.

 _Breathing_ . He was _breathing._

Alive. 

When he’d been in that cold, so cold water, Zuko had been focussed. He’d focussed on Katara, he’d focussed on staying awake, he’d focussed on the few breaths he’d had left in him. Like Uncle had taught him. Then, he’d focussed on his inner flame. He’d focussed on it, as small and insignificant as it had been, sitting in his chest. 

It had been small. So small.

Insignificant.

Weak. 

But Katara had picked up on it. Somehow. She’d known he was alive. She’d known. She hadn’t given up on him. She’d pushed away her doubts and fears, she’d found the strength to save herself first… and then she’d come back for him. Using some of the most mysterious parts of her bending, parts he could barely comprehend, she’d healed him. She’d used her waterbending to heal him. To make him anew. She’d saved him.

And now here he was, in a lifeboat on the Atlantic. 

Sailing towards safety. 

Towards hope.

They’d both made it out alive. It had been a miracle. 

No. It had been _Katara_. 

Speaking of Katara, she hadn’t even woken up when he’d brought her closer after he’d sat up some time ago. Limbs growing weary when lying down on his back. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and her hand was up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. That was what he presumed she was doing while she slept, anyway. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She smiled in her sleep.

“You two are adorable,” said a man. 

He was the man who had helped the officer in charge get him out of the water. Who had pushed them along with the oars. He was a crewmember on the ship, Zuko had learned some time ago. He owed him his life. He owed these people his life.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

He meant it.

“You remind me of my daughter and her husband,” said the man. “No matter what happened last night, you two have a bright future in front of you. I just know it.”

“Again. Thank you.”

Soon enough, the _Carpathia_ appeared, a dark silhouette upon the horizon. 

They’d been found.

They were saved. They were being rescued. 

People had come back for them.

And still, Katara slept.

Eventually, Zuko had to wake Katara up. Slowly, meaningfully, he kissed her forehead, then her nose and then her mouth. She laughed at that. Mumbling something like “All right, all right, I’m up!” He giggled against her. He’d never stop kissing her (as long as she wanted him to, of course!), not when he had the chance, not when he was free to do it. 

Who would have thought that the scared boy he had been just a few days ago would now be here? That that scared boy would have become… a man? Bold, alive, holding the woman he loved in his arms? A woman from steerage at that? 

He’d defied his father, his sister, his fiancée. 

He’d defied them all. 

All because of her. All for her.

He’d broken free.

Zuko leaned backwards and looked at Katara, then. He looked at her, at her eyes and at her skin and at her hair glowing under the rising sun. He smiled.

“You know, if it hadn’t been for you being such a powerful bender… I wouldn’t be here.”

Katara froze. She stared at him. 

Mouth hanging open. 

Eyes wide.

Zuko frowned.

“What? What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

Katara’s jaw clicked shut. Then she smiled. She smiled that smile that told Zuko nothing was wrong. That smile he could read so easily now. Katara shook her head.

“No, nothing’s wrong. You said exactly the right thing.”

“I… I did?”

“Yeah.”

She rested her head against him again. And closed her eyes.

“You’re a very powerful bender, too.”

Their lifeboat reached the _Carpathia_ soon after. They were hoisted up the ladder by some of the crewmembers. Slowly. Carefully. Zuko guided a still somewhat groggy Katara to a secluded spot on the _Carpathia_ ’s crowded deck. They sat there, cuddling together. Joined at the hip. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. 

He hoped he never would have to. 

Soon, dawn turned to day. White light - cold, impersonal, of an icy blue - hit them, contrasting against the scared people’s dark clothes. Zuko’s heart tightened in his chest when he gazed upon those who had survived like them. Mostly women. Those who would have to live with the consequences of the disaster.

Who had to live another day.

Later that night, they would look through the list of survivors. They would search for Uncle Iroh, for Sokka, for Suki, for Jet, for Aang. They wouldn’t find them.

Zuko looked up when he heard familiar, heavy footsteps on the floor.

“Sparky! Sugar Queen!”

Zuko and Katara jumped up to their feet. They pulled Toph in a hug, crying and laughing with relief. She’d found them! Toph had made it, too! She’d found them!

“I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“I’m glad I’m okay, too.”

“What have you been up to?” grinned Zuko.

“I found my mother,” said Toph, pulling away. “We’ve been talking for a while.”

“And?” asked Katara. 

“I’m talking to my Dad as soon as we arrive in New York. Then, I never come back!”

They burst out laughing. 

They sat down to talk. They didn’t have the time to talk for long, though; they were starving. Toph and Katara left not long after they’d been reunited, on their way to find some food. Zuko stayed put, as Katara had instructed with a sharp glare. He needed to rest, too. As always, he could never say no to her. So here he was, curled up on the wooden deck. He wrapped himself in the wool blanket he’d been given, pulling it around his head. 

That’s when she walked down the stairs. 

Zuko was petrified. 

“Ma’am,” said an officer when she walked past him, “I don’t think you’ll find anyone you know down here. It’s just steerage.”

Mai ignored him, looking out upon the deck. Zuko put the blanket further up over his face, covering his quite recognizable scar. 

He remembered what he’d seen when he’d been in that lifeboat. 

When he’d looked up at Katara. 

He remembered the scared man looking in the mirror, his almost future self. 

He held his breath.

She never saw him.

That was the last time Zuko saw Mai Agni. He would later learn she married, of course, and inherited her millions. But then the Wall Street Crash of 1929 would blast her fortune to smithereens. Then, she’d put a pistol in her mouth that year. 

Or so he read.

Zuko turned around and went to sleep.

As everyone settled in, the _Carpathia_ resumed its voyage towards land. When Zuko woke up, he found himself gazing into Katara’s smiling face. She offered him a bowl of soup he warmed up with his firebending. Zuko watched as the icebergs rolled by. Looking inoffensive in the day’s light.

And yet.

They stayed on deck with Toph for a long while. Talking about the sinking, about those they’d lost, and maybe, just maybe, about the future. They talked for hours. Until the sun was high up in the sky. And later on, they were offered trips to the bathroom. To wipe away the grime and salt and sweat. 

He removed his coat and took a closer look at his shirt. The shirt they’d cut open.

Zuko stopped short. 

He gazed at his skin. Blinking. Staring. 

“Zuko? Have you seen…? Oh.”

He turned his head. Slowly. So slowly. Katara stood in the doorway. Her eyes were focussed on his chest. Over his heart. His hand lingered there.

There was a scar, now.

Star-shaped. Pink and ruby and crimson. Contrasting, sharp, against his skin.

 _Ice burns_ , he’d told her in those cold, so cold waters.

It burned just as fire did.

Zuko’s hand rested on his chest. Fingers spread out.

“You know, it’s still fresh.” 

Waving her hands as she talked, Katara walked over to him briskly. She put her warm, smooth, soft hand above his own. Over his heart. Where she had healed him. 

“Maybe if I used some water, I could…”

“No.”

Katara looked up. Looking at him with those eyes. He held his breath. 

They shared a glance. 

“No?”

Zuko shook his head.

He didn’t hate this scar. Just like he didn’t hate the one on his face. 

Not anymore. 

How could he? How could he hate it?

He wanted to keep it. He didn’t want to lose it; he wanted to keep it. Forever and always. It was a testament to his own survival. Father, Azula, Mai, _Titanic…_

He’d survived it all.

This scar truly was a testament to his own survival. In the form of a permanent mark. 

Etched like a tattoo on his skin.

“I love it.”

Katara smiled. She squeezed his hand. 

“Good. I love it, too.”

The voyage to New York was a whirlwind of answering questions from the crew and officers, telling Toph everything about what had happened during the sinking, dodging _some_ questions, and helping distribute food and drinks and blankets - “No sir, no ma’am, we don’t mind, thank you,” - along with the staff. Then, a few days later, at night and under pouring rain, they made it to New York City. 

Toph was somewhere inside, somewhere warm. Zuko watched as Katara stood in the rain, arms spread out wide and a large smile on her face. Enjoying the millions of raindrops falling on her. Zuko was glad she wasn’t scared of her element, not even after the ship sinking. It had taken his uncle’s patient encouragement before he’d picked up firebending again after what Father had done to him. He didn’t want that for her. Water was around her and fire was inside him. It was a part of who they were. A part of life.

As simple as living.

Still, a small amount of envy, the tiniest, tiniest amount, filled his belly. How was it like, to feel the water’s push and pull, to bring it forth, to use it to heal? 

He’d never know.

But he shouldn’t feel envious.

Fire was life, too.

Zuko watched as Katara dropped her arms. She stood there. Head turned towards the sky. He wrapped an arm around her as the _Carpathia_ sailed past the Statue of Liberty. She didn’t look at him. She only looked at the Statue. 

“Sokka’s never going to see it again,” said Katara.

He pulled her tighter against him.

“I’m sorry.”

Zuko breathed in. Breathed out. They stayed there in silence for a while, standing outside in the pouring rain. Their clothes were soon soaked, but Katara didn’t move to waterbend them dry. They just stood there. Together.

If it hadn’t been for the rain, Zuko hoped they would have been able to see the stars. They were the same two people who had been walking on _Titanic_ ’s deck under the stars, after the Irish party, and since the sinking… he appreciated the stars more, now. They’d witnessed Katara saving him. Those billions and billions of stars. 

Zuko blinked. He was still Zuko and she was still Katara, and yet they weren’t the same people who had boarded _Titanic_ a few days ago. 

They were here. At the start of a new beginning. 

Zuko didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with this new beginning. But he knew that as long as he was with Katara, he’d be okay.

They were soon approached by a man in uniform. He spoke to Katara first.

“Can I take your name, please, love?”

She lifted her head and looked at him. For just a moment.

“Hama. Hama La.”

Then, the man turned to Zuko.

“And can I take your name, sir?”

It took him a heartbeat. 

Then, he answered:

“La. Zuko La.”

* * *

“He took your name,” said Asami, amazed. 

“Of course he did. Zuko was always so romantic.”

“ _I_ was romantic? _You_ proposed to me, darling.”

“I did, I did.”

“Get a room, you two,” cackled Toph.

Zuko seemed to ignore her, then. He looked down. Pensive. And said:

“It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Taking your name. How could I not? You saved me in more ways than a person can be saved.”

Asami watched as Katara rested her head against Zuko’s shoulder. They were below deck again, sitting together, with Zuko and Katara’s backs against the dozen of screens showing _Titanic_ ’s remains. It felt voyeuristic now, to see her as a corpse, a shell of her former self. Zuko wrapped his hand around Katara’s, clasping their fingers together.

Asami remembered well the look on his face when he’d stepped in the laboratory. Upon seeing his portrait, a blush had blossomed upon Zuko’s cheeks. It was adorable.

“I didn’t look half-bad, back then, didn’t I?”

“Oh, Zuko.” Katara wrapped herself around his arm. “You were beautiful. You still are! Although…” Katara had then sent Asami a mischievous look. “He _did_ have abs, back then. Muscular thanks to all that firebending. Did I capture that accurately?”

“You did,” grinned Asami.

“Oh, Spirits…” Zuko coughed a laugh. “I can’t believe my private parts have been broadcasted on live television!”

They all burst out laughing. Even their kids, who had piled up around the drawing, gazing down at their father’s younger self. Some of them gazed down at it with a scrunched up nose, but they still eyed it as it was. Art. Toph, behind them, laughed the loudest. She slapped her thigh, head thrown back and eyes tearing up with mirth.

“You never told me she’d drawn you naked!”

“Did we have to?” asked Katara.

“I guess not.” Toph snorted. “But it’s too funny!”

Huh. Funny. She found it _funny._ Asami didn’t find their drawing funny at all. It was a sign of trust, of _complete_ trust. To let down the walls you’d built around yourself, to let go of your insecurities, to trust that the other person would care. That they would see beyond the body. Beyond the skin. Right to your soul.

“Did she ever draw you again?” asked Mako with a twinkle in his eye.

Zuko cleared his throat. A laugh in his voice, he said:

“Actually, yes. Yes, she did.”

Katara smiled a sly grin. She winked at them.

“There’s a few drawings I keep somewhere private, if you know what I mean.”

A chuckle ran through the crowd.

Zuko sighed. His face becoming serious once more.

“This one was… special, though. I felt so nervous, that night. I was shaking all over.”

He smiled a special smile, just for Katara.

“It was so freeing.”

Then, they’d all sat down, with Katara and Zuko surrounded by the screens and Toph and the kids sitting off to the side with Korra.

“Zuko Kai died on _Titanic_ ,” explained Katara. “As far as anyone knows, at least. And as I told you, he had to. There are people out there who would kill to find Zuko, the last member of the Kai family, and finish him off. It’s a dreadful reality, but it’s ours.” 

“Even today?”

Zuko nodded at Bolin.

“Even today.” 

Asami pushed out a breath.

To think… that Zuko had had to abandon everything… just for his own safety.

He’d given it all up for her.

No. He hadn’t given it all up. He’d found Katara. And that had been enough.

“I found out years later that Ozai had lied to me about my mother’s debts,” continued Zuko, his voice sounding far away. Lost in the past. “They were his and he’d been lying to me all that time. And honestly? I should have known.”

“Ozai was a coward. And he had a lot of enemies.”

“He did.”

“I’m so happy I never had to meet that sucker,” said Iroh. “Sorry, Dad.”

“None taken.”

“That must have been dreadful,” said Teo. “To live in hiding.”

Zuko raised his hands up, palms out. Chuckling. 

“Oh, please, don’t worry about me! It wasn’t dreadful at all! I’ve lived a full life, let me tell you. We had a wedding in Chippewa Falls, then we had another wedding in Kyoto. Then we travelled, for a while. Our first stop was Chippewa Falls, then we went up North where we found Pakku, Katara’s Master. She became a Master in record time, of course. And after that, we travelled some more.”

“We went near Omashu,” recalled Katara. “We found the Cave of Two Lovers.”

“We did. It was beautiful.”

Zuko dropped his hands, eyes lost in the past.

“Eventually, we settled down. I was an actor for a long, very long time. Always going by Zuko La, though. That’s why you never saw my name anywhere in your research.”

“Zuko and I,” Katara decided to continue when Zuko went silent, “we went to Santa Monica to start a life together. So while I was pursuing my career as an artist he was an actor. He played in many movies, even moving to talkies when they became popular.” 

“I believe they liked the sound of my voice. I voiced cartoon characters, too.”

Katara smiled.

“I still do like your voice, don’t I?”

“I know you do.” 

They stared at each other. Disgustingly cute.

There was a moment of silence. Disrupted only by the beeps of the machines. Then Bolin jumped up on his seat. She could see an idea had sparked in his mind.

“Hey!” cut in Bolin. “What happened to Ty Lee?”

Asami, Mako and Korra gaped at him. Faces blank.

“Ty Lee?”

“Yeah. Azula’s friend who was supposed to take another ship.”

“Oh!” 

Zuko rumbled a laugh. 

“Yes, I almost forgot to mention it! I received a letter from Ty Lee sometime before the one year anniversary of the sinking. She’d tracked me down, but told me she wouldn’t tell anyone I was alive. Especially not Mai. I was grateful for that. We kept in touch ever since. I learned after the sinking, her parents had betrothed her to a man ten years her senior and she’d… well. She’d run off. Joined the circus at that, too. Barnum & Bailey. They quite enjoyed her talent for acrobatics. Way more than Azula ever did. She was their best.” 

There was a twinkle in his eye when he added:

“Ty Lee found solace in the arms of one of the trapeze artists. The ringmaster’s granddaughter at that! Anne Carlyle. Second of the name.”

“Interesting,” grinned Asami.

She sent Korra a glance. They looked away. 

Zuko smiled.

“I was an actor for many years, and after that, I decided to retire and open a tea shop in Chippewa Falls. Toph came up with the name. The Jasmine Dragon.”

“That, I did!” Toph grinned from her seat, off to the side.

“I started by making my Uncle’s brew. It was everyone’s favourite. Still is, too.”

Asami looked down. She felt bad for Uncle Iroh. He’d only ever wanted what was best for his nephew. She hoped he was smiling from the Spirit World. 

Knowing him, he probably was.

“The Jasmine Dragon’s one of my favourite places in the world,” said Kya. “I remember… I remember sitting with Izumi and Iroh as kids. They’d put up a huge wall of photographs and hung them like paintings. We’d sit all of us together and create some wild backstories about the people we didn’t know.”

“And I bet those stories weren’t as wild as your parents’ real life story. Were they?”

Kya laughed.

“No! Indeed, they weren’t.”

A curt moment of silence followed Kya’s laugh. Broken up by...

“And…”

Asami looked up at Katara.

“And?”

“And they found Aang, a few days after the sinking.” 

Asami’s jaw dropped. As the others’ did. She stared at Katara.

“What?!”

“He’d survived. Only thanks to his airbending. He’d created a bubble of warm air around himself and Appa. The crew identifying the victims managed to save them. Momo didn’t make it, though, I’m afraid.” 

She paused, then continued: 

“It soon turned out that Appa wasn’t a dog after all. He was a baby Sky Bison. A beautiful creature, really. And so cuddly.”

“He also couldn’t stop himself from licking me,” grumbled Tenzin.

“Aww, that’s just because he liked you, don’t worry,” half-mocked Izumi, patting him on the head.

Zuko picked up where Katara had left off.

“Aang died about the time Korra was born. He was our dearest friend.”

Everyone nodded at that.

“He must have had a long life full of laughter,” said Mako.

“Oh, oh!” Toph winked. “Trust _me,_ his life was fuuuuuull of fun!”

Asami blushed at the innuendo.

Toph’s smile grew on her face. It turned...

Soft. Reminiscing.

“For years, Aang and I just… travelled the world. We never really settled down anywhere. We never exactly married but we didn’t really need that. Our family still travels around most of the time. Living as nomads. Tenzin teaches the next generation of airbenders in the Air Temples. Lin and Gyatso were on that beach with Izumi, I believe.”

“Yep, they were,” nodded Izumi.

“And Suyin is teaching the next generation of metalbenders. Our grandkids. And a few great-grandkids, too. Along with others.”

A solemn moment followed. In memory of Aang. 

That is, until Asami remembered… she remembered something important.

“Oh!” 

Asami jumped up. 

“I almost forgot.”

She left the room at a jog, a dozen eyes poking holes in her back. When she returned, she was holding a rather large box wrapped in brown paper in her hands. She dropped it in Zuko’s and Katara’s lap. They looked at each other, then they opened it eagerly, like kids on their birthdays. When they saw what was inside the box, though, they stopped. And gasped.

“I can’t believe it!”

“This is incredible!”

“But… how?”

“Stop beating around the bush!” scolded Toph. “What is it? What is it?!” 

Katara lifted the Painted Lady’s straw hat up to her eyes. Zuko grabbed the Blue Spirit’s mask with trembling hands. They’d seen better days, stained and faded, but they were whole. That was probably more than they had expected.

“We found the Blue Spirit’s mask and the Painted Lady’s hat a few days ago in the cargo hold. They’d moved around a bit, but they were surprisingly well-preserved. I kept them a secret. For a time. I thought it would be a good surprise. They survived because they were coated in a special oil, I believe.”

“We always used it to keep them from wear and tear,” said Zuko. “Incredible.”

It seemed it was the only word he could find to describe this.

When Katara’s eyes found Asami’s, she saw only gratitude in them.

“Thank you for this, Asami. Truly.”

Asami smiled, then bowed respectfully.

“Thank you for indulging us, Master Katara.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Turning to him, Asami added: 

“And I thank you too, Zuko Kai.”

“Tut, tut!” He lifted a finger and winked. “It’s Zuko _La_ now, thank you.”

“Right. May the Spirits smile upon you, Zuko and Katara La.”

The story over, they all gathered in the ship’s dining area to eat and drink tea. It was a lively affair, with wild tales of adventures overseas, with Iroh, Tenzin and Izumi poking fun at Kya, and Asami and her crew telling stories of their own. People drank, laughed, shoved each other, and talked and talked and talked. Soon, the tea and the food were exhausted, filling bellies with warmth and satisfaction.

The fun was only beginning, though.

After cleaning up the dishes, the others decided to go outside and get some fresh air. After a trip to the bathroom, Asami found herself alone below deck. She stayed there for some time, gazing down at Zuko’s drawing. It floated just under the surface. Weathered and yet still whole. To think… had she not found it at the bottom of the ocean… had it not survived for eighty-four years… Katara would’ve never given them that call… and she would’ve never heard Zuko and Katara La’s story. 

She still couldn’t quite believe Katara had made them think… all this time… 

“Asami!”

She looked up. Snapping out of it. Korra was leaning down, her head appearing at the top of the staircase. She was smiling. Wide.

“Yeah?”

“Come, there’s something you should see.”

She started after her.

_Woosh! Hiss!_

What… in the Spirits’ names…?

Asami stood still, looking at… Zuko and Katara. They were…

What were they doing?

They were circling each other. She lifted water whips around her arms and he lifted fire whips around his arms. They attacked. Fire licking, water hissing. Katara lifted a wave from the ocean and Zuko avoided it, jumping off to the side. Always staying on his feet. He punched and kicked fire at her. A wall of water protected her.

They feigned, attacked, countered. Feigned, attacked, countered. 

At a standstill.

An equal match.

“I thought… but what about the wheelchair?”

Asami looked to her left at the crowd sitting on deck. The entire crew was there, along with Korra, Toph, Izumi, Kya and Iroh. They were all watching with equally impressed, raised eyebrows. They were a beauty to behold. That was true.

“Ever heard of King Bumi?”

Asami blinked. Toph had arched an eyebrow.

“The legendary king from Omashu?”

“Well, he wasn’t legendary. And even though he was a hundred-and-twelve-years-old, he could still fight. He couldn’t fight all day, of course. Not like he used to. But he was still strong when he needed to be. Katara conserves her energy for… well. This.”

“And what is… this?”

“Sparring.”

“... Huh.”

Zuko shot balls of fire at Katara’s feet. She evaded easily, running away, jumping aside. Each ball of fire landed in the ocean behind her. She lifted another wave, turning it to ice and riding it towards him. Zuko’s fire collided with Katara’s ice, sending her flying. Asami felt herself tense. But Katara only landed back on her feet.

She attacked again.

“And… they do that often?”

Kya smiled at Asami.

“They’ve done that every night for as far as I can remember.”

He attacked, she blocked. She attacked, he blocked. It lasted for a few long minutes more. Until Zuko breathed in and out, in and out. He circled around Katara once again. 

Asami saw it in his eyes. 

He was ready for the big finish.

He took in a deep, deep breath. And he sent a plume of fire at her. Instead of striking back, Katara avoided it by crouching. She sent a wave of water at his chest. Making him fall to the ground. Then, she covered his whole body with ice. Pinning him down.

They laughed.

Asami had never seen Katara look so young.

Katara walked over to Zuko. She towered over him, hands on her hips. A mischievous smile reached her eyes, making them twinkle. She was enjoying this.

“Do you yield?”

Zuko chuckled.

“Yes, darling. I yield.”

The ice melted and Katara sent it back where it belonged. In the ocean. She offered Zuko her hand. He took it, standing tall next to her. Then with another chuckle, Katara wrapped her arms around his middle. Her ear over his heart. On his chest. They took in deep breaths until their breathings evened. A moment of silence stretched between them. Katara closed her eyes.

“That felt good.”

“Yes. Like the good old days.”

Asami almost looked away.

Almost.

When Katara sighed, then, her shoulders drooped, her head dropped. She opened her eyes and shared a glance with Asami. Katara looked tired, so tired. She looked like the weight of all her years had suddenly started to weigh her down. Yet this time, instead of unshed tears, Asami found memories behind her eyes. Somehow, she found herself knowing that Katara had had a good life, full of smiles and love, happiness and laughter, though it had barely started in such tragedy. She saw it. She saw it all.

Simply by looking into her eyes.

“I think… it’s time to go.”

Asami had a feeling she knew what that meant.

She knew it deep in her chest.

Soon enough, Zuko and Katara retreated to her cabin, though now it seemed rather small for two people. Toph herself took a room with a smile and a wave. The kids were given some spots on couches and cots when they ran out of rooms. And so that night, Asami found herself unable to sleep. She found her way to the deck, shouldering a jacket on her shoulders. It was dark and still, beyond the railing. Asami looked down as she walked. Until feet appeared in her field of view. She lifted her head. 

Korra.

Korra stood there, mind seemingly lost in the open ocean. Not for the first time, Asami found her beautiful, but especially now, looking out upon the water.

“Hey,” she said. 

Korra turned her head towards her. 

“Hey.”

Asami stood next to her, leaning against the railing. Their shoulders brushed.

“I wanted to apologize,” Asami started. “I shouldn’t have called you a liar, a… a _fucking_ liar at that. I… It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate your apology. Don’t worry about it, though. I almost didn’t agree with them to keep quiet. I was a mean scheme of theirs.”

“Did you know their story?”

“Well, Katara told me she’d met Zuko a long, long time ago, but she wanted to tell me everything when I was old enough to understand everything. They could have told me years ago I guess, but then again, I think they were waiting for the right moment, you know? I believe they told people from Chippewa Falls, like Katara’s father and some others, and Izumi, Kya and Iroh of course. I don’t know if they told Gyatso, Tenzin, Suyin and Lin, though. But Katara also said it had been years since they’d told their story to anyone. At all.”

Asami nodded, looking down at her hands.

“Why do you think they did it? Not telling us the truth about Zuko?”

“Telling you half-truths, you mean?”

“Yeah. That.”

“To get you to listen, maybe? I mean, no offence, but you guys are _treasure hunters_. I’m not sure she was certain you and your crew would actually want to listen to her story instead of just… manipulate her into telling you about the diamond. So she didn’t tell you everything up front. You did answer Katara’s call specifically for that reason, after all.”

“Right. Now we know, though. The diamond sank with the ship.”

There was silence, the sound of the crashing waves, then Korra said: 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll manage. I still have money left. I’ll make my living in something else. It’s kind of a fresh start. Maybe that’s what I need. Like them, back then.”

Korra nodded, but she didn’t say anything more. 

It struck Asami, then.

“You know, maybe that was the point of their story. I may not have that diamond, but I have my life. Sokka, Suki, Jet, Iroh, Azula, Ozai, the Captain, the officers, the crewmembers, the engineers, the stewards, the maids, the band players, the passengers… all those hundreds, over a _thousand_ people… died at sea. Their lives cut too short. Some of them could still be alive today. They could have lived to see another day. But they couldn’t.”

“It’s horrifying.”

“It’s not only horrifying. It’s devastating. Can you imagine? All the wars, the disasters, the mistakes. In the end, it’s not about glory or fame or power. It’s about people. People we reduce to numbers in a book. It’s about their lives.” 

Asami took in a deep breath.

“It’s about _life._ ”

There was another moment of silence. Longer.

Heavy. 

Sorrowful.

“But then again,” point out Korra, “it’s not just about the disasters. Remember Officer Lowe? He did the right thing. He came back for them. If it wasn’t for him, none of the few people in those waters that night would’ve been saved. They would have died. Katara and Zuko wouldn’t be alive today. And it’s about the _Carpathia_ , too. I read about it once. The captain, the engineers, the crewmembers, the passengers... they stopped warming the rooms except in the kitchen and the boiler rooms, they pushed their engines through a field of icebergs further than those engines could even go, they gave their own clothes and cabins and food to those survivors. They did the right thing. They saved them, too. They couldn’t save everyone. But they tried. They knew they could try. So they did.”

“So it’s about doing the right thing?”

“I think their story was about doing whatever you can. When you can.”

Asami took in another deep breath. A breath of cold ocean air. Maybe as cold as that night. Or maybe not. She held her breath and let it out. Sending one last thought for all those people, back then and today, who did the right thing and who still could. 

That was life. It was about trying. It was about _possibility_.

Asami sent Korra a sidelong glance.

She decided to take their conversation somewhere else.

“So, how was it, growing up around Uncle Zuko, Auntie Katara and Auntie Toph?”

Korra smiled. Fondly. 

“Toph comes and goes. She started a metalbending school and sometimes, well, she’s so busy, we don’t see her for a year, sometimes more. She helps her daughters operate it. As for Auntie Katara and Uncle Zuko… I remember when I was really young, before they’d fully settled down, they kept coming and going, too. Whenever they’d leave, it was awful, but then they’d come back six months later, and it was always a celebration. Then one day, they decided to stay.” 

Korra paused. Her eyes were a little wet. Asami didn’t say anything. 

Korra cleared her throat. 

“ _Anyway_. They’re kind. They’re genuinely kind people who care about each other.”

“I can only imagine. The things they’ve been through together...”

“Yeah. It must be nice. To know there’s someone out there who has your back. Who will try to save you and you’ll save them in return. Through thick and thin.”

Their fingers barely touched, on the railing. More silence followed. Korra lifted her hand, palm up. A little orange flame appeared. 

“When I was a kid, it was... kind of hard. Where I’m from, we’re mostly waterbenders. It’s convenient during winters, I suppose. When I was born a firebender, people didn’t really know what to do with my bending. But Zuko taught me. He was so patient, he needed to. I was brash and bratty. He taught me that fire isn’t only aggression, it’s life, too. Now I know it’s what kept him alive.” 

The flame shivered.

“ _Katara,_ though. Katara taught me that all elements are connected, that you can use firebending moves in waterbending or firebending moves in waterbending. She taught me that it doesn’t matter whether you're an earthbender or an airbender or anything else. You’re connected to everyone else.”

“That’s awesome.” 

Asami sighed. 

“Sometimes, I wish I was a bender.”

“It takes effort. But it’s rewarding.” 

Another moment of silence. Korra put out her fire. Then...

“I wish I’d met Aang, though. He sounded like a lot of fun.” Korra scrunched up her nose. She grimaced. “And I don’t particularly want to know what kind of fun he had with Auntie Toph, if you know what I mean!”

“Well, now we know what happened in the back of that car!”

They laughed together. Elbows touching.

Silence settled between them once more. Their fingers brushed again. Asami looked down at their hands. Slowly, so slowly, she lifted hers. And wrapped her fingers around Korra’s. Korra looked up. Eyes widening with surprise.

“Hey, Korra… I wanted to thank you. For coming with Katara.”

Korra gaped at her.

“I’m sorry?”

“You didn’t have to come. And yet… you did. So thank you.”

Asami bit her lip. She took in a deep breath. Then, she added:

“And…”

Asami’s other hand reached out. Touching Korra’s cheek. Korra’s eyes widened even more. Her mouth hung open. Shocked. 

As if burned, Asami retracted her hand.

“I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I…”

Asami turned to walk away. Great! She’d ruined everything, she’d ruined everything, she’s ruined every…! Korra grabbed her arm. Asami stopped, turning back around.

“Wait.”

Korra’s hands cupped Asami’s cheeks. She leaned forward. Korra kissed her. Deeply. Beautifully. They kissed in the cool ocean air. Maybe getting a taste of what it had felt like to fall in love on the Ship of Dreams. _Titanic_ had brought them together, too.

When Korra pulled back, Asami looked at her. Slack-jawed. 

Korra smiled.

“That was okay.”

“It was?”

“Hm, hm. And you know, I wouldn’t mind a fresh start either.”

Asami smiled. 

“Good.”

They grinned at each other. When Korra leaned forward again, Asami was waiting. Unfortunately, that kiss never came. They were interrupted.

“Hey! Korra! Asami!”

They both turned around. At Mako and Bolin. They stared.

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“We, huh…”

Asami chuckled.

“It’s okay, guys. What is it?”

Bolin’s face broke into a wide smile.

“Kya brought some of Zuko’s old silent films! There’s a few I’m sure you’d want to watch. They’re hilarious, apparently. There’s _The Last Airbender, Love Amongst the Dragons_ and _The Boy in the Iceberg_. I’ve heard all of them are absolutely, positively terrible!”

They all chuckled. Asami sent Korra a glance.

“Want to have a watch party?”

Korra smiled. “Sure.”

Before Asami could move, though, Korra pushed herself on the tip of her toes and she kissed Asami once more. Then, she clasped their hands together.

“Let’s go.”

They started to walk away. Following Mako and Bolin.

Yeah. That was what Asami needed.

A fresh start.

* * *

Zuko walked barefoot on the ship’s deck.

The night was chilly, but not as cold as it had been that fateful night when _Titanic_ had hit that iceberg. His hair, fully down, fluttered in the wind, falling into his eyes. It was much, much longer than it had been when he’d met Katara. Falling down his back. Katara had said she liked his long hair, and he’d agreed to keep it that way. Ever since those days. 

Zuko stopped in front of the railing, smiling faintly. 

_Those days_.

He’d been so lost back then. A poor little rich boy struggling to survive. A little brat. A lost soul. He’d felt so trapped, so angry, so...

“Don’t do it,” came her voice behind him.

Zuko turned around. Katara stood there in her nightclothes like him, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Like that night they’d met.

There was a smile on Katara’s face. She was teasing him.

“Stay back,” he answered in familiar words. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Do I have to pull you back in, this time?”

“You’ll do it if you have to. At least there’s no Master at Arms around, this time.”

Katara chuckled. She walked forward to stand by his side. Katara put her hands on the white railing, its whiteness ghostly, a stark contrast against the dark sea. Katara looked straight into his eyes and offered him a hand.

“Take my hand.”

He took it. Zuko could never say no to her. Together, they rose up on the railing, looking down into the water. One hand holding the railing, Zuko lifted the other. 

The Heart of the Ocean rested in his hand, glistening and so blue.

Blue like her eyes.

He remembered it so well. He’d found the Heart of the Ocean the night he’d taken Katara’s last name, standing on the _Carpathia_ as they’d arrived in New York. The man in uniform had been walking away, umbrella in hand. Zuko had put his hand in his pocket and his fingers had wrapped around something heavy and cold. 

He’d found it. 

Still in there. 

Safe and sound. 

“We’ll take good care of it,” had whispered Katara under that pouring rain.

“Yeah. I know we will.”

It had survived Louis XVI and it had survived _Titanic_ , too.

And now, it glinted in the light. 

Eighty-four years later.

“Are you ready?”

He looked at Katara. Zuko nodded. 

“Together.”

“Of course, darling. I’m with you in all things. Like always.”

Zuko took the necklace between his thumb and his index finger. Katara put two fingers around the sparkling chain, too. The diamond gleamed in the ship’s light. 

They dropped it. 

The Heart of the Ocean sank beneath the waves. 

Never to be seen again.

Zuko lifted his head to the night sky, looking up at the endless stars. He breathed in… and out. It felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders. After all these years, they had finally done it. They’d given it its resting place. It was sinking to the ocean floor now. Taking its place back on _Titanic_. Where it belonged.

They’d given the ocean its heart back.

* * *

“Good night, Toph.”

Katara leaned against the door jamb. Toph lifted her head up from her reading, hands running over the embossed paper. She smiled at Katara. Katara smiled back. Even if that didn’t do much. Still. She smiled anyway.

There was something heavy in Toph’s eyes. Something like gravity.

“You’re ready?” asked Katara.

“Yeah.” 

Toph nodded, eyelids heavy. 

“I’m ready.”

“Good night, then.”

“To you, too.”

Katara walked the silent hallways of the ship until she reached her room. She stopped in the hallway, though. Not quite ready. That was when she saw someone turn around the corner. 

It was Asami.

Katara stared. She stared back.

“Oh! Good evening, Asami.”

“Hi, Katara. Um, we were… just about to go watch some of Zuko’s old films.”

“Wonderful! We watch them again from time to time. To laugh at him.”

Asami chuckled.

“Yeah…”

There was a moment of silence.

“And… um…”

Asami looked… uncomfortable. Rubbing her hands together. Katara arched an eyebrow at that. She didn’t seem like the shy type.

“Yes? Asami?”

“I…” 

Asami took a deep breath. Once she started, it didn’t seem like she could stop. 

“Look, Katara, I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you like a means to an end. And it really wasn’t fair. It’s not fair. You deserve better than that. And I also wanted to apologize for Mako’s behavior. He’s been… mean-spirited. And I’m sorry on his behalf.”

“I appreciate your apology.”

Katara’s shoulders slumped. 

She was tired. So tired.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, too. Making you all think Zuko was dead… wasn’t exactly nice, either. We had our reasons, but... you know.”

“I do know. I understand.”

“Good.”

But _good_ didn’t seem enough. So Katara added:

“After all, a woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets.”

Asami nodded. For a moment. Then she opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Katara arched the other eyebrow. 

“Yes? Asami?”

“I…” 

Asami sighed. Deeply. 

“I don’t know what to say to a woman whose husband tried to jump off _Titanic_ when it wasn’t sinking and jumped back on when it was.”

Katara chuckled. That described Zuko very well.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

Asami smiled. Though there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes. Katara figured she couldn’t leave her like this, though. Not on those terms.

“Except… maybe this.”

Asami blinked. All ears.

“Yes?”

Katara smiled.

“Don’t waste your life. Make it count.”

Asami grinned. A grin that reached her eyes. 

“I’ll try.”

“I know you will.”

They exchanged one last glance. 

It said everything.

“Good night, Katara.”

“Good night, Asami.”

With that, Katara pushed the door open and walked into her room. 

Her hand brushed against the box containing the Blue Spirit’s mask and the Painted Lady’s straw hat. She looked at the pictures on the desk. Zuko had taken them all. He’d become her personal photographer through the years. 

One was of herself on a bench, drawing something - a family, friends, lovers, perhaps? - out of frame. 

Another of her standing by a biplane she’d flown. She found it much more comfortable than flying by dragon. 

Another was of her and the kids at the circus with Auntie Ty Lee and Auntie Anne. 

There were others, and others, and… 

And the last one was of herself in Santa Monica, riding on horseback in the gentle waves. Zuko had always loved that picture. His favourite amongst them all. After taking it, they’d rode their horses into the sunset. After that, they’d walked on the beach barefoot, hand in hand, watching the pier and the rollercoaster. 

“Is something wrong?”

Katara spun around. Zuko had walked into the room. Still barefoot. He clicked the door shut behind him. She smiled. It seemed to relieve him somewhat. 

Still, Katara said:

“No, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Zuko lied down in bed on his side, shuffling until he was under the covers. Katara nestled herself between the sheets and rested her head against Zuko’s chest. One hand over his heart. Fingers spread out. 

She smiled. Content.

“Good night, Katara,” he whispered into her hair.

“Good night, Zuko.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kissed the top of her head. She was the last one to close her eyes; he rose with the sun and she rose with the moon, after all. But the rising and falling of Zuko’s chest under her hand eventually lulled her to sleep. Or to something else, she wasn’t quite sure yet.

Katara found herself drifting away. 

She drifted off in the dark, through miles and miles of heavy water. She drifted off to _Titanic_ , sitting at the bottom of the ocean. She entered the ship through its broken deck, but as she drifted, deep navy blue exploded into golden sunlight. Green rust disappeared, leaving metal and wood in its place, sparkling in the ship’s former glory. Katara drifted until she reached a set of double doors. The stewards opened them for her.

Katara drifted through the wood and glass doors. The grand staircase was opened up to her. She found herself staring at all those she had lost. At all those they had lost. 

Some people weren’t even on _Titanic_. But they’d known them. Long ago. 

Mom, Dad, Bato, Hama and Gran-Gran. 

Ty Lee and Anne, too. 

Who had somehow found their way here. Just to see their daughter and granddaughter and student and friend again. To welcome her.

A young man and a young woman were standing off to the side. Lu Ten and Song, she somehow knew. As if on instinct. 

The woman who stood with them was Ursa, Zuko’s mother. 

Katara was certain of it.

She nodded at Ursa. Ursa nodded back. She Ursa approved.

Katara kept going. 

She found Sokka, arm-in-arm with Suki. They waved at her. 

A young Aang followed, smiling as brightly as he always did, with Momo on his shoulder and Appa by his side, a baby again. 

The Kai family’s maid winked at her. 

Katara strode past the band members, who bowed their heads, then past Jet, who was smiling that iconic smirk, a piece of grass between his teeth. 

Meng waved at her, hoisted up in Aunt Wu’s arms. 

Katara went past Mr. Andrews, who nodded at her.

Finally, she found Iroh’s patient eyes, gleaming with pride. She knew there would be many teacups to share and many tales to share, too. 

Katara climbed the grand staircase to the landing. She stopped before the clock, then turned around. She’d been the last one to fall asleep and yet, it seemed she was the first one to arrive. From up here, she saw Toph walking in. She laughed to the ceiling with a “Twinkle Toes!” and she punched his shoulder.

Then Zuko arrived. 

He bowed to Mom, to Dad, to Bato, to Hama and to Gran-Gran, then found himself pulled into a hug. 

Lu Ten, Song, Ty Lee, Anne and Ursa joined in. 

He smiled at them, patting their shoulders and backs, then continued on his way. 

Zuko put his hand on Sokka’s shoulder, grinned at Suki, scratched Momo’s ear, and nodded respectfully at Mr. Andrews. 

Then he stopped short when his eyes found his Uncle’s. 

With a laugh, Iroh pulled him in for a hug.

When Zuko looked at her from the bottom of the grand staircase, Katara saw him beaming back at her. He was resplendent in his former self. His hair was short, shaggy, messy, falling into his golden eyes. Yet so _him_. That was when Katara looked at her arms and touched her own face. She was young again, brown-haired and skin flawless. She wore a dress of stars and he, a suit of sunlight. Zuko climbed the staircase up to her. 

They stood there for just a moment. Then, they melted into each other.

Katara kissed Zuko as if it was the first time all over again, as if they were once more at the bow of the ship, as if they were still those kids they had once been. A bunch of brats barely out of childhood. The Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit. 

And they still were those kids. 

They’d always kept their hearts young. 

Everyone in the room clapped for them. Captain Smith was the last one to clap. The applause was thunderous in her ears. Katara smiled into the kiss. And Zuko smiled back.

They had made it count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... surprise? 
> 
> I'll be honest: Zuko was never going to die. Deciding to keep him alive was one of the reasons I decided to write this fic! I never liked unhappy endings. And I know James Cameron said Jack's death made the movie meaningful... but come on! This is my fanfiction and I can do what I want :)
> 
> BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! Next week I will be uploading an EPILOGUE to Never Let Me Go! It will tell the tale of Zuko and Katara's first year after the sinking. Gran-Gran, Hakoda and a few others will appear!
> 
> BUT WAIT! THERE'S EVEN MORE!!! After posting the epilogue, I will also post fanart I made for this fic! I just couldn't stop myself from redrawing screencaps and a few of my favourite posters. So it will be uploaded as a bonus "chapter sixteen".
> 
> Also BTW: Ty Lee joined The Greatest Showman's Barnum's circus. I do not condone or approve of the REAL P.T. Barnum. This is the Hugh Jackman Barnum. Because I love that movie to bits and I couldn't help myself.
> 
> So. Did you like that surprise? ;)


	15. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

* * *

 _And the crashes are heaven for a_ _sinner released_

_And the arms of the ocean delivered me_

* * *

_April 18th, 1912_

And now, it was all about living.

The _Carpathia_ berthed in New York. An army of photographers was waiting for them. Not for _them,_ per se, but for all of them. All those who had survived. Like them. Zuko and Katara kept their eyes out for Mai. Just in case. But she was nowhere to be found. 

And they were left alone.

Soon after setting foot on actual solid ground for the first time in too long, they said their final goodbyes to Toph and were ushered to a hotel room paid for by total strangers. Strangers who wanted to lend a hand. 

When the door clicked shut, it all dawned on Zuko.

They’d survived. They were alive.

But the weight of survival crashed upon his shoulders.

Zuko barely registered himself kicking off his shoes. He felt himself fall into bed, Katara leaning into his side. There was softness under him and warmth around him. Had it only been a few days ago since he’d been in those cold, so terribly cold waters? He looked up at the ceiling. Blinking.

They were alive. They’d made it. And yet…

A lump appeared in his throat. Zuko swallowed thickly. When he shared a glance with Katara, she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face in her hair. He breathed her in. She smelled of smoke and seawater. 

She still smelled like the sinking ship. 

It broke him on the inside. 

Zuko felt burning salt before tears fell from his eyes. He cried, he sobbed, he shook with each shaking breath. And Katara cried into him. They cried together. Holding onto each other. Giving each other strength.

They had survived, but at what cost? 

What they’d lost, what they’d been through…

It was more than many lived in a lifetime.

It took them minutes or maybe hours, but eventually, their breathing evened and they wiped away their tears. They still embraced for much, much longer. Until it felt safe enough to pull away. Until he could look in her eyes again.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Zuko. “What’s going to happen next?”

Katara looked deep into his eyes.

“We live. Maybe not knowing what will happen next. But we live.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Katara rested her head in the crook of his neck, her hand resting over his heart. Her legs curled around his. A moment of silence followed. A moment of silence Zuko wasn’t quite ready to face yet. So he was the first one to speak.

“Tell me about your family.”

Katara smiled into him. Her voice showed only fondness when she answered:

“My Dad is amazing. He’s the pillar of the family. He holds us together. Well… at least he did before he had to leave for work. He’s back home now. He told me so in a letter. Mom’s death destroyed him, of course. But he’s getting better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s going well with Bato.”

“I’m happy for them.”

Katara nodded. Zuko felt her sigh against him. 

“And Gran-Gran... she’s so strong. While Dad held us together, Gran-Gran was the one who took us in after Mom died. She’s old, but she’s so strong, too. And snarky. I want to be like her when I’m her age.”

“I bet you’ll get to be like that.”

They shared a glance. Zuko was lost in her eyes for a moment. Then, he remembered something. As if a memory from a dream almost. Something that seemed to have occurred so long ago but had only been a few days. A few days since…

“You told Uncle.”

Katara stared at him.

“What? What did I tell him?”

“That I tried to jump.”

Katara swallowed. “Oh. Um… Yes. Yes, I did. Are you mad?”

“No. No, no, no, I’m not mad. Actually, I’m glad. I’m glad you told him. It helped Uncle understand me better.”

“I couldn’t not tell him. He was pleading and…”

“I know how he is. How he… _was_.” 

Zuko frowned. It felt so strange to speak of Uncle in the past tense. 

“There was something about him that just made you open up. You couldn’t keep a secret from him for long. But… after I told you to leave me alone - sorry about that, by the way - he had a talk with me. A good talk. And it made me understand a lot of things about myself and about you and… if it hadn’t been for that conversation… I don’t know if I would have taken the plunge to go back to you. So to speak.”

“Your Uncle was a good man.”

“He was. And then when I went to find you… I found your brother first.”

Katara’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

“You talked to Sokka?”

“I talked to Sokka and Aang and Toph and Jet and Suki. I was standing in the middle of the Third Class general room and I… I told them I love you.”

Katara’s breath cracked in her throat.

“Oh…! That’s what he meant when… the last time we… talked.”

“Yeah. And Sokka… he put a hand on my shoulder and he told me… He told me that he trusted me and that I should go to you. That he was giving me his blessing. Not that you needed it, of course! You make your own choices and that’s great and…”

Katara kissed his cheek.

“ _Zuko._ I get it. Go on.”

“All right. Everyone else gave me their blessings, too. Aang, Toph, Suki, even Jet. And everyone else in steerage. They all told me to go to you and never look back.”

“I’m happy you listened.”

“I’m happy, too.”

He meant it. He truly meant it.

She made him happy.

Katara reached up. Her thumb traced his scar. As if it was the easiest thing to do. But Zuko felt it was hard to breathe. 

“Why do you like to touch it?”

Katara dropped her hand. 

“What?”

“Why do you like to touch it? My scar? It’s only… disgusted people before.”

Katara seemed to consider this for a moment. Her eyes were lost in the distance, eyebrows frowned, mouth in a pout. 

She was adorable when she was deep in thought. 

“Three reasons.” She looked back at him. With a fond smile. “One: because I do. Simple as that. Two: because you freeze up and get that flustered look on your face when I do it. And three…” Katara took a pause. Took a deep breath. And continued. “Because I love your scar. It’s a part of you. It doesn’t define you, but it’s still a part of you. It… completes you. I don’t think I could picture your face without it. It shows what you’ve been through, what you’ve had to survive through. I think it’s beautiful.”

Zuko frowned. “How can you know…?”

Katara grimaced.

“Azula told me. While we were in the Master at Arms’ room.”

“Oh.”

There was a curt moment of silence again. When Katara started to speak once more, she spoke rapidly. As if the words couldn’t get out of her mouth quickly enough.

“She didn’t tell me any details, but she told me that you’d spoken out of turn and that your Father had decided to do that to you, to teach you a lesson and...” 

“ _Slow down,_ Katara. It’s okay.

“Well…” She breathed in. Breathed out. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m so sorry he did that. You didn’t deserve it. At all. You deserve the world, Zuko. The whole Spirits damned world. And I’m not talking about money.” 

Katara opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it. 

“I don’t… what she told me… it doesn’t change the way I see you. At all. You’re you and you’ll always be you. And you’re amazing. So your scar is amazing.”

“It is?”

“Yes,” she said earnestly. Without a hint of hesitation. “Truly.”

Katara reached for his scar once more. Zuko felt himself turning soft. Pliable under her hand, caressing his cheek. Zuko closed his eyes. But then he remembered… he remembered what had happened when… 

He had to tell her.

“When you were taken away…” He looked Katara in the eyes. She dropped her hand again. “When _I_ allowed them to take you away… Mai, she… She was so mad. She was so… so _angry_. I’d left her a note and the drawing. So… she knew.”

“Weren’t you… I don’t like the pun, but, weren’t you playing with fire?”

Zuko chuckled.

“You know, I probably was. But I felt so free for the first time in my life. Drunk on freedom. She was so mad… She made me sit in a chair. Like that morning.”

“That morning?”

Zuko gulped. 

“You know how I told you to leave me alone, that day? Well, I was following orders. They… My father and Mai...”

“Did they hurt you?”

“They threatened me.”

Katara’s forehead touched his. She closed her eyes.

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. That’s horrible.”

“After you were taken away… she made me sit in that chair. She berated me. I understand. Truly, I get it. I’d hurt her deeply. But then… But then she…”

Katara moved her head backwards. Just a bit. To look him in the eyes.

“What did she do, Zuko?”

Zuko bit his lip. One part of him didn’t want to say it. But another told him… another told him he _had_ to. He had to tell her. He needed to tell someone. Anyone.

“She… She slapped me and she forced a kiss on me.”

Katara’s jaw dropped. 

“She did _what?!_ ”

“She…” Zuko buried his face in his hands. “She slapped me. And she forced a kiss on me. She pushed against me, she… I couldn’t… I couldn’t push her off. I couldn’t do anything. And then she told me to never, _ever_ break up with her ever again.”

There was a moment of silence. For this long, so long moment, Zuko half-expected Katara to laugh. To say it wasn’t that bad, that it could have been worse. That he was just overreacting, that it was normal for a future wife to do something like that.

But this was Katara. And Katara would never.

Her gentle hands moved his fingers aside, revealing his face. Her eyes were so kind.

“I can’t imagine what that felt like. But I want you to know that it wasn’t your fault. Nothing about this was your fault. She had no right to demean you. She had no right to hurt you. She had no right to make you feel inferior. She had no right to make you uncomfortable in your own body. She had no right.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. And… And it doesn’t make you weak. It makes _her_ weak, because that was the only way she found to feel powerful. Threatening someone to stay with them? Using their body against their will? That’s not love. That’s weakness. On _her_ part.”

Zuko’s mouth hung open. Agape.

What else was there to say to that? What else but...

“... Thank you.”

She hugged him again. Silence fell upon them. It was a heavy kind of silence, brought only by the weight of what they’d been through. Zuko closed his eyes. 

He breathed in and out. In and out. Again. And again. And again.

_Firebending comes from the breath._

Zuko let his anguish, his pain and his hurt wash away with every breath. Like an ocean - her element - smoothing over a cliff. Even if for just a moment, he focussed on something else instead.

Something happy, something good. 

Zuko focussed on breathing, on _living_ . Alive. He was alive, he was alive, he was _alive._ It was still so strange to think that barely a few days ago, he’d been dying. 

And Katara had saved him. 

Zuko held her tight. Tighter. And she held him just as tight. He thought about Katara, about himself, about them. They were an _us_ now. Brought together by fate, by destiny, by luck. Barely a few days ago, every touch he’d shared with her had been forbidden. Every glance, every dance, every kiss, every moment. Their worlds had been completely different, miles apart, and yet… they’d found each other. And they’d managed to survive. 

Together.

He focussed solely on Katara, then. Zuko moved a touch, to look into her eyes. 

“I feel better, now.” 

“Me too.”

“I think… we can talk about it later.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Zuko kissed her forehead. But it didn’t seem enough.

He was free. And he wanted to enjoy his freedom as much as possible.

Starting now.

Zuko leaned forward. Katara met him halfway. They kissed. At first, they were slow. Steady. But then he started to kiss her quickly, again and again and again. Every time he kissed her, he whispered her name. 

_Katara, Katara, Katara, Katara…_

The last kiss lasted longer. Tasting her. Savouring her. Zuko leaned against Katara and she leaned against him. His hands travelled up and down her back. Her arms curled around his neck. Fingers playing with his hair. Tongues twisting together. The kiss deepened. Growing intense. 

Fervent _. Ardent._

Katara moaned into him. A deep, low, long-winded sound. She moaned with _pleasure._

A familiar fire lit up in his belly. A _different_ kind of fire. Wrapping his arms around Katara, Zuko brought her even closer, on top of him, and he kissed her. Behind her ear. Along her jawline. On her shoulder and her neck. Repeatedly. Hungrily. Katara giggled. Spirits, she actually _giggled._

He loved her. He loved her _so much._

A soft smile tugged at his lips.

They were alone. 

And no one was looking for them.

“You know...” said Zuko slyly. He stopped kissing her to look at her face. Katara opened her eyes. Slowly. “I think this is the first time we’ve been in an actual bed together.”

Katara’s mouth hung open. Then, she burst out laughing.

“I think you’re right!”

They laughed together.

On the _Carpathia_ , they’d been offered a bed in a stateroom. But they’d decided to give it to a mother and her daughters who needed it more. So for the past few days, they’d been sleeping on a cot. In a corner in that stateroom. And now here they were. In a hotel room.

Alone. Together.

His family would have been scandalized. Well, they had been scandalized by a lot of things that had happened since they’d found each other on _Titanic_.

What had Katara said a few days ago? 

_I say a little scandal never hurt anybody._

Zuko decided to take that as his new life motto. Along with _Make it count_.

He started to kiss Katara again. He kissed her neck, her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, her mouth… until he stopped to look her in the eyes again.

“Katara?”

“Mm?”

He grinned.

“I can’t quite forget what happened in the back of that car.”

Katara arched an eyebrow. 

“Ooh…” 

Katara’s eyes gleamed. She unbuttoned his shirt, never breaking eye contact, and her warm hands slid down his torso. Zuko shivered. Katara smiled, showing all her teeth.

“Is that so?”

“Hm, hm.”

Katara wrapped her thighs around his hips and _squeezed_ . Zuko jumped, letting out an involuntary yelp. He panted. Heart pounding. Katara had poured gasoline on the fire inside him. Setting him aflame. Spirits, how could she do that? How could she do that so _easily?_

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Katara chuckled.

“I’m counting on it.”

They shared a glance. He was about to kiss her again. But then… an idea sparked into his mind. He wanted to try something… _different_. This time, Zuko was the one who wrapped his legs around her. He spun them around swiftly, switching sides. Katara’s back hit the mattress and he ended up on top of her. For once. Katara laughed again. Zuko looked down at her as she laughed. His hands on either side of her body, fingers spread out.

He grinned. 

Zuko leaned in close and whispered in her ear:

“Let’s go back to the stars, then, Miss La.”

* * *

_April 19th, 1912_

Katara woke up sweaty and sore. 

Sunlight poured over them early the next morning. Katara’s eyes fluttered open. Morning. Blessed morning. Every morning was a blessing. That had always been true, even before _Titanic_ , but it was now more than ever. To feel herself swimming up from the slumber of sleep, gaining awareness of the world once more. 

Katara looked around. White curtains floated, ethereal, in the soft breeze flowing from the window they’d left open. The hotel room was as it had been last night, left untouched, though their clothes littered the floor now. 

Katara smiled, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.

Their clothes _littered the floor._

Like back in that car.

Had her life really become the plot of a romance novel?

Katara gazed at the brilliant person next to her. Zuko’s head was turned away from her, leaving his scar in plain sight. He was covered from the waist down by white bedsheets, twisted around his waist. Leaving much to the imagination. His skin seemed to glow in the morning light. His eyes were closed, but she had a feeling he wasn’t sleeping anymore. 

He rose with the sun, after all. 

Katara leaned into Zuko’s side. His warm, warm side… Her hand rested on his chest. Over the scar there. Katara took in a deep breath. The deep red scar was a sharp contrast against his skin. A vestige of their survival. She could feel his heart beating underneath. Below her fingers. 

Alive. 

To think that this man, this wonderful man who had saved her and whom she had saved in return, had almost _died_ for her just a few days ago... And since they’d met, he had kissed, touched, loved every part of her when he shouldn’t have, when according to his family, he should have thought he was above her by birth. And yet he’d never believed that. He had always come back to her. 

And now…

Now he was here. With her.

Zuko had been trouble. The good kind of trouble. The _best_ kind of trouble. The kind that made her gasp for air, the kind that intoxicated her, the kind that consumed and filled her at the same time. The kind that set her skin on fire in their ocean’s push and pull. Leaving her tired but never emptied. _Never_ emptied.

She wasn’t just thinking about the physical side of things, of course. 

Though that was a nice little bonus, on top of _everything_ Zuko was and exuded.

He was so kind. So sweet. He made her laugh. He loved art. He took her seriously. He listened to her. He understood her. She loved him. And he loved her back.

Then came that thought again.

_When did she get so lucky?_

A smile curled her mouth. She let out a small, content sigh. Katara rested her head against his soft skin and closed her eyes. Feeling sleep pulling her down.

But it seemed Zuko had another idea. 

She felt him stir against her. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Gentle.

“Katara. Katara, wake up.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Katara, there’s something I want to tell you. And it can’t wait.”

At that, she huffed. She pouted, scrunching up her nose. Did she really have to? She opened her eyes, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Yes?”

“I want to tell you what’s going to happen next. Okay?”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I…”

Zuko took a pause. As if he was trying to find the right words. He looked at her with nothing but certainty and truth when he said: 

“Every day I’m going to wake up with the sun. As I always do. I’m going to watch you sleep for just a moment. Then I’m going to get up, meditate and practice my firebending forms. After that, I’ll cook breakfast or brew you tea. Whichever you prefer. You’re going to wake up every day to the smell of cooking food. And then I’m going to come back to bed, hold you close, kiss you, and tell you everything is ready.”

“Mm.” Another smile stretched on her face. Pleased. Content. “Sounds good to me. And every night under the moon, we’ll spar. What do you think?”

“Spar?”

“Yeah. Like at the Irish party, remember? Water against fire.”

“Oh! Yeah. Good idea. I’d love that.”

“Me too.”

“You’re the one who suggested it.”

“I know.” She waved a hand. Impatient. “But you know what I mean.” 

“I do.” Another pause. Then Zuko smiled. “And I’m going to tell you I love you every morning when we wake up and every night before bed.”

Her heart swelled. Katara felt light as a feather.

“Really?”

“Really. I promise you that. I’ll never stop saying it. Because I can, now. I can say it. I can’t take this for granted. Just a few days ago, I couldn’t even _look_ at you the wrong way. And now, well… here I am.”

“In bed with me.”

“In bed with you.” 

Zuko licked his lips, swallowed, then continued:

“I promise you, Katara. I’m never taking this for granted. Ever.”

“And I love you for it.”

Zuko’s smile grew wide at that. 

“I love you too.”

* * *

_April 19th, 1912_

The door creaked open. Finally. Fina-fucking-lly.

“Mistress Toph?”

“That’s right! It’s me! Back from the dead. Now let me talk to my father!”

Toph marched her way through the labyrinthine hallways of the Beifong manor in New York. Their pied-à-terre in the United States, so to speak. Behind Toph, the butler’s footsteps followed, hushed by the thick carpet. Her mother was there, too, following after the butler. She kept whispering after Toph, telling her not to do this, to rethink her decision, to please, please, please, _don’t do this!_ Toph didn’t listen. She was tired of listening to her mother. Therefore, when her father’s office door opened with a shiver and light warmed Toph through, she faced him. Face in a pout.

“Toph?”

“That’s right!” she repeated. “You have a daughter, Father. Who knew?”

A beat.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Toph pushed her way past the doors and grabbed one of the leather armchair’s back. She grabbed it tight. Until her hands hurt.

“The meaning of this, Father, is that I won’t stay here anymore.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Toph grinned.

“You heard me right. I’m packing my bags and leaving.”

“Where? Surely your mother will accompany you?”

“Nope, she won’t. Though I think it’s quite telling that _you_ wouldn’t want to tag along, right? You’re too busy to take care of your fragile blind daughter, aren’t you?”

“Poppy?”

Father’s voice travelled over Toph’s head towards the back of the office.

“What has gotten into her?”

“What has gotten into _me,_ Father, is that I was on a sinking ship a few days ago. I found friends on that ship. Some of whom _are no longer alive_ , and do you know what Mother did after that iceberg did? Do. You. Know?”

“Um…” A second of guilty silence. “No?”

“Of course, you don’t know! Because you weren’t there. You left us.”

“I…!”

“I know, I know, I know! You’re the Beifong Patriarch. You’re too busy to care, I get it. It seems you share that lack of care with Mother. Because she left me alone. Hm, hm! She took a lifeboat and left me alone! On a sinking ship!”

“She did _what?!”_

“Lao, I can explain…!”

“Oh, you don’t get to be scandalized, old man!” Toph pointed at his general direction with one accusing finger. “ _You_ don’t get to be scandalized. _You weren’t there._ You took the first ship home and left us! You got to live here in luxury without a care in the world while your wife and daughter were out there. In the middle of the Atlantic. On a sinking ship!”

“Don’t you dare… Don’t you think…! I’ve been following this story since it made the news. I’ve been worried sick all week!”

“Of course! That’s easy to say now. But you still weren’t there.”

A moment of silence. Then, a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Toph. I should have been there. I should have.”

“Be sorry. I don’t care. I’m still mad at you.”

“But…!”

“I’m not only sorry about that sinking ship. Did you know your precious daughter was down in Third Class the day before the sinking?”

“What?!”

“Yes! It was easy, really. To leave everything behind. To find people who cared about me. You couldn’t keep me hidden from the rest of the world on that ship. Because again. You weren’t there! So it was probably a blessing that you weren’t there. A blessing in disguise! 

Toph took in a deep breath. She let it out in a huff.

“These people in Third Class... didn’t treat me as a fragile little thing down there. I wasn’t an object in a glass case. Everyone knew I was blind and an earthbender and they were impressed! Impressed! By me! I arm wrestled two grown men at the same time and I won! Those people treated me as a person. And I’m… I’m sad to say…”

Toph’s voice quivered. She cleared her throat.

She wasn’t going to crack.

Not now.

“Most of them didn’t make it. Because of snobs like us.”

Toph’s father gave out a strangled sound. Almost a word. But not quite.

“It was people like us, privileged people like us, who were given the first spots in those lifeboats. The people in Third Class were treated like animals. Locked in cages. And for what? For not being born with money? These people made me realize that I had a say in my life and that I didn’t have to follow any of your rules anymore. So I’m leaving.”

“Toph…!”

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Toph, no! I forbid it. I forbid you!”

She didn’t listen. As soon as Toph made it to her bedroom, she took out a suitcase from her wardrobe. She opened her drawers and grabbed her underwear. What little underwear they kept here anyway. 

Toph stopped when she felt Mother’s presence. Behind her.

“What do you want?”

“I want to help you. With packing.”

Toph blinked. Was that a trick?

No. There was some… some amount of truth in her mother’s voice.

“All right. Then I’m going.”

“Of course.”

Less than twenty minutes later, Toph was ready to go. Her suitcase was packed with clothes, some food and enough money for a few train tickets. Toph had an idea of where she was going. That idea was: as far from here as she could.

“Oh!” Toph stopped, a hand on the door jamb. “And one last thing, Mother.”

A second. 

“Yes?”

“Father’s been having an affair. For years.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Found out just before boarding in Southampton. I figured you should know.”

“What?!”

“Goodbye, Mother.”

The last thing Toph heard before closing the manor’s heavy doors behind her was a long screech. A long, high-pitched, furious screech.

“LAO BEIFONG! WHAT DID I JUST HEAR ABOUT AN AFFAIR?”

* * *

_April 29th, 1912_

Kanna put down her newspapers and sat back in her rocking chair by the window. She picked up her knitting again. Each needle was brought over and under. Over and under. Hypnotising. Perched on the fireplace mantle, a radio played soft music.

Two weeks since the unsinkable ship sank. The irony there was plain as day.

Also a week since she’d heard last from her granddaughter.

Had that been a coincidence? Probably. Or maybe not. Katara’s letter had been curt and vague. Only a few phrases. 

_I’m coming home. I’m bringing someone with me. See you soon._

Kanna frowned. Her letter hadn’t mentioned Sokka, which was… strange. To say the least. From what she’d known about their adventures overseas, Katara and Sokka were inseparable. Had they fought? Or had something happened to him? Somehow?

Kanna was taken out of her thoughts when a knock sounded at the door. Quick and efficient. _Knock, knock, knock._ Her old bones complained as she pushed herself to her feet. A shuffling sound followed after her from the living room to the front door. It opened with a creak. Kanna found herself staring into her exhausted-looking granddaughter’s face. 

“Katara!” 

“Hello, Gran-Gran.”

“Hakoda, it’s Katara! She’s home!”

Kanna pulled Katara close. That’s when Katara _burst into tears._ Dread filling her stomach, Kanna pushed herself away and put two hands on Katara’s shoulders. There was something missing in those eyes. Something was… gone.

“What happened?”

It didn’t take long for Hakoda to appear, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. It was late in the day and he’d worked long hours of toil, but Hakoda would never miss Katara’s arrival. Kanna heard him stop a step or so behind them. 

“Katara? Where’s Sokka?”

Katara swallowed. As if unable to talk.

That’s when Kanna understood.

“Come here. Come here, sweetie.”

The three members of the La family gathered each other in a hug. Katara collapsed, falling to her knees. They followed after her. Kanna breathed her in, breathed in the smells of salt and smoke and... something else. A man’s cologne?

It took Katara a long moment to stop crying. But when she did… she smiled.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Katara rose to her feet and beckoned someone forward. 

“Gran-Gran, Dad… this is Zuko.”

Kanna’s fake broke into a smile. Her granddaughter had brought home a boy! Kanna pushed her way past Katara to get a good look at him. She put herself in his face, one hand on his chin, and turned his head around, eying him from all angles. Ooh, Katara had chosen well. He was tall, muscular, good teeth, an aristocratic face, handsome as could be, and those eyes… Kanna approved.

The poor boy looked like a frightened animal, though.

“Um… hello?”

“He’s a good one, I can already tell. Good choice, Katara.” She tapped the boy’s - Zuko’s - unscarred cheek with a grin. “Welcome to the family, son. I’m Kanna. But call me Gran-Gran.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Kanna moved aside, standing next to Katara. Hakoda walked forward.

“So you’re the ‘someone’ my daughter said she’d bring home.”

Zuko turned stiff, shoulders squared and back straight.

“Yes, sir. I am.”

Tense silence followed… until Hakoda laughed, clapping Zuko’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the family, son. Now come on in! Don’t stay outside in the cold.”

They sat on cushions in the dining room, Kanna and Hakoda on one side and Katara and Zuko on the other. They eyed each other for a long moment. Katara kept her head bowed, hands clasped together on her lap. There was something… different about Katara. Kanna could feel it. Of course, she’d grown up so fast and she’d expected Katara to have changed after four years of travelling overseas. But there was something… changed about her.

Irrevocably changed.

“Now,” said Hakoda, clasping his hands together. “How did you two meet?”

Katara and Zuko exchanged a glance.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” said Zuko. “A really long one.”

Kanna smiled. “We have all the time in the world.”

They exchanged a glance again. This time, though, Kanna could see a silent conversation happening behind those eyes. She arched an eyebrow at that. How long had Katara been dating this boy? They acted like a married couple already.

Katara raised her head, straightened her back, and said:

“We met on _Titanic_.”

The next morning, Kanna was still reeling from Katara’s and Zuko’s story. She stayed in bed, looking up at the ceiling, trying to wrap her head around everything they’d told them the night before. They’d gone to bed well past midnight, teary-eyed and exhausted. To think that these two young people - her granddaughter and her grandstepson - had connected so quickly on that doomed ship and had only survived by saving each other time and time again… She’d seen the way they looked at each other, the way they finished each other’s sentences and the way they held each other’s hands during the hardest parts.

They were the real deal, those two.

Delicious smells wafted in from the kitchen. Immediately curious, Kanna set out to find out what Hakoda had been cooking. To her surprise, it wasn’t Hakoda who was standing in the kitchen. It was… Zuko. She watched, standing behind him and out of sight, as Zuko deftly maneuvered his way around her kitchen. One hand put white rice in a bowl and the other sprinkled… something... on top. Next, Zuko poured what Kanna assumed was miso soup in four bowls. A cucumber salad found its way to another bowl. Finally, he finished preparing his cooked salmon, resting it on a plate. 

Admiring his work, Zuko put his hands on his hips.

“Good morning, young man.”

“Oh!” Zuko spun around. He offered a shy smile. “Kanna! Good morning.”

“I told you. Call me Gran-Gran.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Gran-Gran.”

“This smells delicious!”

“Thank you.”

Zuko seemed to realize then that he wasn’t wearing anything from the waist up. He looked down at himself, hands hovering somewhere above his naked torso. Kanna couldn’t help a thought; her granddaughter had chosen a handsome fella indeed. When Zuko reached for his shirt, discarded on a chair, Kanna waved a hand.

“Don’t mind me, be as comfortable as you want.” 

He nodded at that and, still, put on his red and gold shirt. It must have been his firebending shirt, because it left his arms exposed, from shoulders to wrists. Firebenders trained early in the morning, didn’t they? That was what Kanna had heard, anyway. 

Zuko stood there. Awkward. Kanna decided to push on with an attempt at conversation.

“You’re up early.”

“Yes! Um, I always rise with the sun. It’s a… firebender thing.”

“Hm, hm. You make breakfast often?”

“Every morning.”

Kanna cocked her head to the side, genuinely surprised.

“Every single morning?”

“Every single morning, yes. I promised Katara that. After the sinking. It was settled as soon as we reached New York, after disembarking the _Carpathia_.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s gentlemanly of you. You’re a keeper.”

“Well.” He shrugged, both palms up. “I try.”

Oh, he was smooth. Even though he looked absolutely awkward. The poor thing.

“I hope you don’t mind if I… searched through your kitchen?”

“Everything that’s in this room is yours.”

“Thank you.”

Zuko turned around to run a tablecloth along the counter, wiping at discarded water with quick movements. Then, when the kettle hissed, he poured them tea. Kanna leaned against the countertop. She looked at her nails, feigning complacence, and asked, teasing:

“So... What happened in the back of that car?” 

Zuko stiffened. Visibly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, trust me, young man. I was young and free once, too. Back in my day, though, we didn’t have those fancy motorized automobiles.”

“Could you…” Zuko shot a look over his shoulder. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“If you prefer, this will stay between you and me. Katara’s father wouldn’t mind, though. He won’t throw a fit, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He cringed at that. Zuko’s hand automatically reached for his scar.

Oh.

Kanna’s voice turned gentle. “He won’t hurt you, you know. Hakoda’s as sweet as can be.”

“Right.”

“That… scar of yours. You weren’t born with it. Were you?”

“I… no.”

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, actually. I… I do want to. I told Katara everything and I think you should know, too. You’re… You’re family, now. Right?”

“Exactly.”

“Well…” 

Zuko paused, as if to gather his thoughts. He offered Kanna a teacup and gathered up his plate and bowls. Together, they started their walk towards the dining room. 

“When I was thirteen, my Father planned to expropriate farmers from our land. They weren’t cooperating as he wanted. And those farmers, they were good people. I talked to them often, even if I wasn’t allowed to. One day when they refused to do something, I don’t remember what, my Father decided to teach them a lesson. He set their house on fire.”

Kanna gasped. She stared at him as he put down their bowls.

“Spirits…!”

“I…” Zuko swallowed. There was a moment of silence as they sat on cushions. Then he continued: “I couldn’t keep quiet. I told my Father off.”

“And then…”

He gestured vaguely at his face. 

“He decided to teach _me_ a lesson. On my face.”

Kanna’s hand flew to her mouth. 

“He did this to you?”

“He did. After that, I was terrified of my own firebending. My uncle was there to pick up the pieces. And now, he’s…” Zuko’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Forgive me a moment, I should probably go wake up Katara.”

“I’ll be waiting right here.”

Two minutes later, he came back with a sheepish smile on his face.

“She’ll be up in five minutes.”

“Good.”

Zuko gestured at the table.

“Please, dig in.”

“Thank you.” Kanna picked up her chopsticks and started to eat. “This is delicious! You’re… adept for a man of your station.”

“Thank you. For three years after my Father gave me that scar, he told everyone to ignore me. The servants, my sister, Father… no one was allowed to talk to me or even acknowledge my existence. I was a stranger in my own home.” He lifted a hand and explained: “My mother wasn’t there. She died when I was ten.” Then he picked up his chopsticks and started to eat. “My uncle taught me everything during those three years. In secret. He taught me how to cook, how to firebend, how to think for myself, how to fight.”

“Your uncle must have been an amazing man.”

“He was.”

Zuko looked off into the distance for a moment. Then, he rubbed at his unscarred eye. As if absentmindedly, he took another bite.

“When I turned sixteen, my Father decided it was time for me to learn the family business. I was still his heir, being the only boy and the eldest at that, too, so eventually he had no choice but to acknowledge it. He taught me for two years. I hated it, but I kept quiet because, well. Because I loved my Father. I wanted to make him proud. 

He paused and pursed his lips. 

“And when I turned eighteen…”

Silence followed. Kanna took a sip of her tofu and seaweed miso soup.

“Yes?”

“My sister Azula - the family favourite, she was a Master and could bend lightning at fourteen - introduced me to Mai Agni.”

“Your future fiancée.”

“Yes. For them it was the perfect match. She was from a good and prosperous family and she was looking for a submissive husband who would let her run everything. I never loved her. She was controlling and demeaning. We courted each other for a year. I’m surprised it lasted that long. Then, as ordered by my Father, I asked her to marry me.”

“I know what that feels like. I’m the expert on arranged marriages around here.”

Zuko blinked.

“Oh?”

“My family decided to marry me to an affluent young man, back home. We weren’t compatible, to say the least. I fled my marriage and I left with my betrothal necklace. The one I gave Kya, who gave it to Katara afterwards. Yes, Katara’s necklace was my engagement gift. Katara’s grandfather gave me a betrothal comb, a family tradition, instead.”

“I see.” It seemed Zuko couldn’t help himself. He chuckled. “Well, _my_ betrothal necklace went down with the ship.” 

A part of Kanna told her he wanted to add _as far as people know,_ but she didn’t ask any questions. There were secrets she didn’t want to know about. Instead, she asked:

“The one you wore when Katara drew you?”

Red blossomed on Zuko’s cheeks.

“Yes, the same one.”

Kanna’s voice turned teasing once more.

“Oh. And what else were you wearing, along with that betrothal necklace?”

Zuko sputtered.

“I, I, uh… What?”

“You know, I’ve seen a few of Katara’s drawings. A particular one even ended up in a letter she sent me home. Oh, I’m sure it was an accident, but that day I found out she’s… rather good at male anatomy. _Very_ good, actually.”

“She’s a wonderful artist. So, um...”

Zuko scratched the back of his neck. He never answered the question.

“So then that day in April, I boarded _Titanic_. With my Uncle, my fiancée, my Father, my sister and our entourage.”

“And then you met Katara.”

He smiled.

“And then I met Katara.”

“What smells so good?”

Kanna looked up. Hakoda appeared at that moment, quickly followed by a sleepy-looking Katara. Kanna lifted a hand, gesturing at their guest.

“Zuko cooked.”

“Really? You can cook, son?”

“He cooks breakfast for me every morning,” smiled Katara. “It does smell good!”

“Dig in before it gets cold.”

They did with pleasure. Hakoda mumbled with delight.

“This is delicious! I bet if Sokka was here, he’d be the one asking you to marry _him_ right now!”

Heavy silence fell around them. Hakoda cleared his throat.

“It’s… It’s really good, Zuko.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Please. Call me Dad. Or Hakoda, if you prefer.”

“I… Thank you. Dad.”

At first they ate in silence, but when Katara yawned, everyone laughed. The ice was broken, to say the least. Conversations bloomed around their little family, about the past, the present and the future. Kanna smiled around the rim of her teacup. Those two had a bright future in front of them, she was sure of it.

If anyone was meant to make it, it was Katara and Zuko.

* * *

_April 30th, 1912_

Hakoda watched. He had always been observant; as unofficial chief of their community, he had to be. Hakoda was used to getting to know people, to uncover their secrets, to realize who they really were, behind façades and walls. Last night, there had been no one who had puzzled him more than Zuko Kai, now going by the last name La. A rich boy who had decided to give his daughter the time of day. Irrevocably so. He’d pieced him together bit by bit; a lost soul looking for another, a connection forged in secret and in urgency. There had been smiles, fun and laughter, but there had also been immeasurable anger and pain and anguish. Things that made Hakoda’s blood boil. Especially Zuko’s mistreatment by his own family members.

There had been parts of Zuko he hadn’t glimpsed of last night. But as Hakoda had listened to Mom’s and Zuko’s conversation this morning… now he felt like he understood. 

Still, there were things to be said. Man-to-man.

“Mom?”

Gran-Gran looked up at him, setting down her teacup.

“Yes?”

“Zuko and I, we’re going shopping.”

Zuko and Katara exchanged a glance. When Katara only shrugged, Zuko rose to his feet. It was so strange. To think that his daughter was so… so grown up. That she’d already found a boy with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And that they were already connected in ways that only married folks - or those who had once been married - knew. The four of them gathered the bowls and plate in the kitchen sink. Then, Zuko went off to his and Katara’s room to change out of his training outfit. 

After giving a quick kiss to Katara’s forehead and whispering I love you to her, to which she replied in kind, Zuko faced Hakoda. Not without a hint of fear in his eyes.

“I’m ready, sir. Lead the way.”

Chippewa Falls was up bright and early. Birds sang in the trees, a cool breeze flew in. People tipped their hats or sent friendly waves as Hakoda walked the streets. Others sent curious glances Zuko’s way, but no one dared to ask any questions. For that, Hakoda was grateful. The poor boy already looked like he was ready to combust right on the spot. He didn’t need people’s unwanted questions at the moment.

After five minutes of walking, Hakoda finally decided to talk.

“I’m glad your father isn’t around or he’d get a taste of my fist in his mouth.”

Zuko’s jaw dropped. He looked up.

“Sir?”

“He hurt you in ways I can’t possibly imagine. He tried to extinguish that fire inside you. I was so angry last night when you told us… I was so angry, I was beside myself. How can a father do this to his own child? And now that I know… your scar…” 

“My scar?”

“Let’s just say I heard a thing or two from your conversation with my mother.”

“Oh…!” Zuko turned beet red. As red as his scar. “Uh, sir, I… I, um…!”

“I don’t care about what happened in that car.” They stopped walking. Hakoda raised his hands, palms out. A peace offering. “Katara… well, she isn’t a little girl anymore. And... trust me, there’s nothing wrong about having sex before marriage. Or after marriage. Or not having it at all. There’s nothing wrong with any of those things.” 

“Oh. There isn’t? That’s…”

“Different?”

“Yes. It’s a good different.”

“And…” Hakoda swallowed. “If it hadn’t been for you, Katara wouldn’t even have made it to her wedding day. My own daughter. I could never be angry with you. Not over such a thing. I’m only grateful, Zuko.” Hakoda put a hand on his shoulder. “Truly grateful.”

Zuko looked down. A moment of silence passed. Then he looked up. Clarity Hakoda had rarely witnessed shone in those eyes. 

“Katara and I, we’re always equal in all things. She saved me, I saved her. I… Going back for her… Giving her that place on that door... It was the least I could do. I can’t even think…” Zuko took in a deep breath. Then he said: “Life without her is lesser for it.”

Hakoda blinked quickly. Furiously. His chest ached, his stomach was twisted in a knot. Tears sprung to his eyes. He’d never heard… To think this boy was barely twenty… He’d been through so much and yet, it had only made him kind. And he talked about his daughter the way Hakoda hoped any future partner would.

Zuko wasn’t any partner, though.

“You’re a great guy, you know?” 

“I...”

“No, wait. You’re not.”

The way Zuko looked at Hakoda made him want to cry even more.

“Sir?”

“You’re not a great guy. You’re a great _man_ , Zuko.”

Zuko gaped at him. Then he smiled.

“...Thank you.”

They started to walk again. Zuko’s awkwardness seemed to seep from his bones. He stood taller, head held high, and a smile tugged at his lips. Hakoda smiled, too. This… This was what Zuko deserved. Pride. Understanding. What he’d been denied for so long. Except for his uncle, of course.

“So,” said Zuko, initiating the conversation for the first time. “You said we were going shopping. What do you want to buy?”

“A betrothal comb for my daughter.”

Zuko’s jaw dropped. Again.

“Excuse me?”

“Look. I know she already proposed to you. But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having a comb of her own. So you’re going to pick it and I’m going to pay for it.”

“No, I can’t possibly…”

“It’s family tradition. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“I… Okay. Um… Thank you, sir.”

“Dad. Call me Dad.”

“Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much. ...Dad.”

Hakoda turned at a street corner. He pushed the door to a particular shop open, quickly followed by Zuko. A bell _dinged!_ as they entered. A familiar man, with a handsome smile, appeared behind the counter. His grin widened when his eyes landed on...

“Hakoda! How are you this fine morning?”

“I’m great, Bato. What about you?”

“Never better. And who is this?”

“This is Zuko.” Hakoda clapped Zuko’s shoulder. “Katara’s fiancé.”

It seemed Zuko couldn’t stop his smile at the thought. 

Katara’s _fiancé_.

It must have a nice ring to it.

Bato, though, looked incredulous, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He gazed back and forth between Hakoda and Zuko.

“Katara’s in town? And she brought home a boy? And they’re getting married?!”

“Indeed, they are.”

“Amazing! How long have you two known each other?”

Zuko swallowed. 

“Um… two weeks?”

“That’s… quick.” Bato squinted his eyes. “Is she pregnant? From another guy?”

Zuko flushed bright red. Again.

“No! No, I… I don’t… No, sir. No.”

“I see.”

Hakoda gave Zuko’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Their story is… incredible, honestly.”

“Well, now I’m curious. You have to tell us!”

Zuko blinked. “Us?”

“Yes! The whole neighborhood is having theatre night this evening. You should come, you and Katara! Maybe this could become story night.”

“I… I’d have to ask her if she wants. But… yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good! I’ll tell everyone, then. Now, what is it you came here to buy?”

Hakoda smiled his proudest smile as he said: “A betrothal comb for my daughter.”

Bato’s whole face lit up. “Let me take them out!”

Zuko’s choice almost made Hakoda tear up again. He chose a beautiful comb, red and blue, gold and silver, carved with a beautiful symbol of the sun and moon together. When Zuko explained his reasoning (“It’s not just about our bending; water saved me when Katara healed me and fire is the only reason I’m still alive.”) Hakoda wrapped an arm around him. Bato seemed… confused, to say the least, but Zuko said he’d explain everything at theatre night - if Katara approved, of course.

Bato wrapped the comb in a beautiful box and gave it to Hakoda. He winked, then.

“And of course, you _are_ getting a discount.”

“Thank you so much, Bato.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll… be seeing you at theatre night? Tonight?”

“As always.”

Their fingers brushed. Hakoda cleared his throat and the comb disappeared in his bag.

Once they were outside again, Zuko looked at him from the corner of his eyes. Hakoda walked in silence… until he couldn’t take it anymore

“What?”

“You and Bato, huh?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! I’m completely fine with it. But you teased me about Katara and I’m teasing you back. I mean, that’s okay for me to do, right? I’m sorry if I offended you, I…”

“Hey. Zuko. I’m not your father. I would never make you feel lesser for teasing me.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

“I just…” Hakoda bit his lip, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I wanted to know if you were… open-minded. I mean, it’s not like Bato and I could ever… get married or anything. But I think Katara would benefit from having someone who respects everyone she loves. And… don’t worry. There’s no bad blood there.”

“Good.” Zuko rubbed the back of his neck too. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For accepting me.”

“You’re family, now. That’s what we do when you’re in the family.”

Hakoda would have wanted to talk with that young man for hours on end, but he had to leave to go to work soon after that. 

Unfortunately.

* * *

_April 30th, 1912_

Hakoda and Zuko had left a few minutes ago already. And now here they were, Kanna and Katara, alone for the first time in years. Silence filled the room, only broken up by the clinking of spoons in teacups. Kanna sipped her tea. There had been many things Kanna had wanted to talk about with her granddaughter over the years. About the joys and pains of travelling, about discovering the world, about breaking free from expectations, about becoming a woman in an age where women were unfortunately so undervalued. About life. She’d wanted to talk about life with Katara for so long.

But right about now… when they were completely alone… there were also… _other things_ Kanna wanted to talk about. She knew Kya should have been the one doing this. But now that Kya wasn’t there… that task befell to her.

And there would be more time to talk about life later on.

“So.”

Katara looked up from her tea.

“Hm?”

“Tell me, Katara.” With a sly smile, Kanna looked at her granddaughter over the rim of her teacup. “What exactly happened in the back of that car?”

Katara stiffened. Not unlike Zuko had. Earlier today.

“Gran-Gran!”

“What?” 

Kanna waved a hand.

“It’s a fair question to ask. Grandmother-to-granddaughter.”

“Did…” Katara gaped at her. For a long second. Until she was finally able to finish the sentence: “Did you ask Zuko that?” 

Kanna sipped her tea. Again.

“Maybe.”

“Oh! Oh, no!” 

Katara buried her face in her hands.

“He must have been so ashamed…”

“ _Ashamed?_ ” Kanna’s teacup clinked when she forcibly set it down on the table. Some tea sploshed around. Burning her fingers. “There’s… There’s nothing to be ashamed of! It’s something that can happen when emotions run high between two young people. Especially when it’s the first time one of them has experienced freedom thanks to the _other_ young person in the relationship.” 

Kanna paused. She pursed her lips and looked down at her hands. Was she going to say it? Yes, yes, she was. Putting all her cards on the table - she _had_ been the one who taught Katara poker, after all. Kanna looked back up at Katara.

“And especially after that drawing.”

Katara dropped her hands. She gaped at Kanna. Again.

“He told you about the drawing?”

“No, he didn’t. I figured it out myself.”

“Oh.”

“So no, sweetie. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I guess…”

Katara trailed off and looked down. Her shoulders slumped. She suddenly looked rather small on the other side of the table as she shrunk in on herself. Visibly uncomfortable. Kanna bit her lip. Oh, no, no, no. This wasn’t going the way she’d wanted. Then again, teasing Katara - especially about such a touchy subject - hadn’t been her best move. She huffed a breath through her nose. Kanna’s voice turned soft when she said:

“Katara… look at me.”

She did. Katara looked up. Her eyes were full of… maybe not quite shame, but unease. Kanna reached over the table and rested her old hand on her shoulder.

“I mean it. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not the first young people to experience this and you’re not the last. You’re not alone in this. All right?” 

When Katara only nodded, Kanna pushed on. 

“I… I don’t want to make fun of you. I’m sorry I made you feel like I was laughing at you. But I want to know how _you_ feel about all this. Because… when people talk about this, the boy’s feelings tend to take center stage compared to the girl’s. I want you to know that the girl’s feelings matter, too. Your feelings matter. So what about you? How do _you_ feel?”

“I feel… good. Really good.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Katara’s voice gained in confidence, becoming stable, solid. “He respects me. He listens to me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, really.”

“Good.” 

Kanna squeezed Katara’s shoulder. She was going in a rather different direction. But it needed to be said. 

“And… there’s usually more consequences for the girl, too. No, I shouldn’t say ‘consequences’. It’s more of a blessing, really. I want to know… if you two are prepared for any future… blessings. I don’t think he’d bail on you, but...”

“We’ve already talked about this.” 

Kanna was the one who gaped at Katara, then. They’d talked about this already? Then again, she probably shouldn’t have been surprised. Katara and Zuko seemed… quite mature for their age. Still barely out of childhood, it seemed. And yet… already young adults.

“If…” 

Katara cleared her throat. Her hand rested on her stomach. Almost automatically. 

“If it happens, and trust me, Gran-Gran, we’re well aware that it can… that it could have already happened… We’ll _both_ take responsibility.”

Kanna stared at her granddaughter for a moment. Then, she smiled.

“I’m happy you’re on the same page about this.”

“We are. And yes, me too.”

“Good.”

Katara picked up her teacup again and gulped some more tea. Her granddaughter had grown up so fast. She only regretted she couldn’t be there for most of her formative years. If only Hakoda hadn’t left… if only Kya… Kanna pushed that train of thought away. Now wasn’t the time for that. Now wasn’t the time for what-ifs. 

Now was the time to focus on Katara.

“So. Speaking of prioritizing _you_. Does he… satisfy your needs?”

“Gran-Gran!”

Kanna waved a hand. “Again. It’s a fair question to ask.”

As silence fell on them, Kanna finished her tea. She was about certain Katara was going to avoid the question - as Zuko had done when she’d inquired about the drawing earlier - but then… Kanna was surprised. Once more.

“... Yes.”

Kanna put down her teacup. She frowned. Had she heard right?

“Hm? What did you say?”

“Yes. He does.”

A broad smile spread on Katara’s face. Kanna couldn’t help but match that smile. They didn’t quite laugh, not about _this_ , but their shoulders shook. Just a bit.

“I see! I’m happy for you two.”

“Me too. He makes me happy.”

“Good. In the end, that’s all that matters.” 

Kanna’s hands reached for the teapot. She lifted it up. With a smile.

“More tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Now that _that_ was out of the way, they had all the time in the world to talk about life.

“So, how was Europe?”

* * *

_April 30th, 1912_

By the time Hakoda finished work, it was dark, and he had a feeling no one would be waiting at home. So Hakoda found his way to the theatre Kya had restored years ago. Everywhere he looked, it was bright and cheerful, decorated with animal pelts and ceremonial ornaments, and full of life on theatre night. Hakoda was the last to arrive and the whole neighborhood cheered for him.

“All right,” said Bato, standing on the center stage as Hakoda took his seat next to Mom, “now that Hakoda’s here. Who’s ready for theatre night?”

Everyone clapped, especially the children.

“Although I do have to tell you… tonight will be a little different. Katara is back in town! And from what I’ve heard, she has a lot to tell us. So this will be… story night!”

“Yaaaaaaaaay!” chorused the youngest, sitting at the front.

“Now. Katara and Zuko, can you get up on stage?”

They did. Bato let them find their place on the stage, finding Hakoda easily in the crowd. They sat together on the old but somehow still comfortable chairs. At first they looked at each other a little awkwardly, but then Bato settled against Hakoda’s side. Burying his head in the crook of Hakoda’s neck. They breathed in rhythm. 

Hakoda’s eyes found Zuko’s, who was looking at the crowd. Petrified. Then he waved.

“Hello. Zuko here.”

Children chuckled. Bato did, too. His chuckle rumbled through Hakoda’s body.

“Our story…” Katara clasped her hands together. “It’s… I don’t want to say it’s only sad. Because it isn’t. There’s happiness and awkwardness and sadness, there’s friends and family and love and… well. I think it’s really worth telling.”

“I bet they’ll leave some parts to the imagination,” whispered Hakoda.

Bato raised his head slightly.

“Oh.” He chuckled. “So I wasn’t that far off this morning. Wasn’t I?”

“You always know how to read people too well.”

Someone shushed them in the crowd. With a not-quite contained chuckle, Bato rested his head against Hakoda’s shoulder once more.

“We met two weeks ago. And on April 18th, we arrived in New York on the _Carpathia_.”

Blank stares answered Katara’s announcement. Someone raised a hand.

“Yes?” asked Zuko.

“Isn’t that the ship that rescued the survivors from _Titanic_?”

Upon hearing the word _Titanic,_ people gasped. All Katara and Zuko could do was nod. Bato shifted next to Hakoda. They looked into each other’s eyes.

Bato knew. 

“It must have been so frightening,” said someone else. 

“Yeah, that’s true!” acquiesced another. “Helping those poor people.”

Katara and Zuko exchanged a glance.

“Actually…”

Heavy silence followed. Then, together as one, people roared.

“No!”

“No way!”

“You don’t mean…”

“You two?”

“You met… two weeks! It’s been two weeks since the sinking!”

“You met on _Titanic?!_ ”

“Tell! Us! The story! Tell! Us! The story! Tell! Us! The story! Tell! Us! The story!”

Katara leaned down, smiling at the kids who had started the chant.

“You want to know?”

“Yes!”

“All right.”

Katara sat down on one of the two chairs they had put on stage. Zuko sat by her side. They looked at each other and he took her hand. She smiled.

“Let’s go back to _Titanic_ , then.”

The audience listened. Enraptured. Zuko didn’t shy away from most details regarding his suicide attempt; people were shocked, but listened patiently. They clapped when Katara saved him and looked romantic when they talked about their conversations on deck and about dinner. People started to dance and play their drums when the Irish party came up. Others ooooed and ahhhhed as Zuko and Katara showcased their bending on stage. They gasped, scowled and yelled when they heard about Zuko’s mistreatment at the hands of Mai and Ozai, then smiled when they heard of Zuko’s conversation with Iroh and when they recounted their first kiss at the bow of the ship. 

Zuko and Katara conveniently avoided giving too much details about the drawing and the car, but some adults nodded. As if in understanding. 

Kids covered their eyes when they told about the ship hitting the iceberg. Anger rose up again when they heard about the scheme with the diamond and how Katara had ended up handcuffed to a pipe. They cheered when Zuko spat in Ozai’s face, and again when he cut the handcuffs with his firebending, and again as Zuko jumped back on the ship and as Katara won against a lightning bending Azula. 

But as the ship sank further and further into the ocean, the crowd grew tranquil and pensive, until Zuko and Katara were on that door.

Saying their final goodbyes.

“And then… she asked me to marry her.”

“And he said yes.”

“Awww…”

“There was a long, long time when I thought I was going to die. I looked at the stars, waiting for that moment.” Katara couldn’t quite look at Zuko. “Until I saw a boat that had come back for us. I tried to tell Zuko… but he couldn’t answer.” Katara’s voice cracked. She blinked and Hakoda wanted to jump on stage and hug her. “I thought he was dead.”

“For a moment… I think I was. Maybe. Or halfway there.”

“But I couldn’t lose hope. So I found a man’s whistle. I pulled it out of his mouth. And I whistled. That’s how they found me. They pulled me into that lifeboat and as I looked at Zuko… I was certain he was gone. But then… he blinked.”

Zuko didn’t say anything. He let Katara talk.

“He was alive, thanks to his firebending. We pulled him out and I used my waterbending to heal him.”

“You saved me.”

“And you saved me.”

They squeezed each other’s hand. Bato smiled at Hakoda, his big beautiful eyes filled with tears. Hakoda smiled back at him. Bato had always been such a sap.

“And… yeah.” Katara looked up. “Then we were on the _Carpathia_.”

“We found Toph on the ship. And then while Katara and her were gone, I saw Mai.”

More people gasped. A child said, mouth hanging open:

“You did?!”

“Yeah.” Zuko shrugged. “She never saw me. But I saw her. And to be completely honest, I hope I never have to see her again. Ever again.”

“That’s understandable,” mumbled Mom, just loud enough for Hakoda to hear.

Their story came to an end, finished with their arrival in New York and their trip to Chippewa Falls in the past few weeks. Hakoda knew Zuko wasn’t done, though.

“Um… Katara?”

Hakoda sat up a little straighter. He knew that look on Zuko’s face. He looked… nervous. Anxious. Fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. Bato looked up at Hakoda’s face. Hakoda and Bato shared a glance. They nodded.

It was time.

“Yes?” 

“I know we’ve both said yes already… but I don’t think we’ve made it official yet.”

“What? What do you… oh!”

More gasps than ever rose amongst the crowd as Zuko offered her his betrothal comb.

“I love you, Katara. All day and every day. I know it’s quick, but we’ve been through what most people go through in a lifetime… in just a few weeks. So that’s why I’m asking you this. Will you accept this comb and my hand in marriage?”

“Of… Of course! But… when? How?”

“When your Dad and I went shopping this morning.”

“Dad?”

Katara searched for Hakoda’s face in the crowd. He raised a hand, nodding.

“I approve!” called Hakoda.

Others chuckled. But he knew, when Katara smiled, that it meant the world to her.

Her father approved.

“I love it. Thank you! And… yes, yes, of course!”

Zuko dove in Katara’s arms. He spun her around on stage. People whistled, whooped and cheered. A minute or so after Katara’s feet had touched the ground, Zuko’s comb rested in her hair. Safe and secure.

All the children jumped to their feet. One of them shouted:

“You should get married _right now!_ ”

Zuko and Katara stared.

“What?”

“Hakoda.” Mom jumped to her feet too, with more agility than Hakoda had ever seen her show. She pointed at Zuko and Katara and said: “Marry them.”

“Me?”

“Of course! Hama trained you in the arts of marrying people. Didn’t she?”

“I… um, yes! But I don’t… I haven’t prepared!”

“I am well aware of that. We’ll prepare. Give us twenty minutes. At the most. But then, I would like you to marry your daughter. Understood?”

Hakoda looked up at the stage, almost at a loss for words. 

“Would you want to?”

Zuko and Katara both looked at each other.

“Yes,” they said at the exact same time.

An hour later, they were married.

The surprise wedding party lasted late into the night. Thankfully, the abandoned theatre was secluded enough that no one called the police for night-time disturbance. As the party drew to an end, Mom said she was going to sleep at a friend’s house and Hakoda spent the night with Bato (not that Hakoda minded, of course…), leaving Zuko and Katara alone for their wedding night. 

They stayed in Chippewa Falls for two weeks. The morning they were to take their train north, Zuko and Katara awoke early, but not early enough that Mom and Hakoda couldn’t see them leave. As hugs were exchanged, Katara smiled, teary-eyed.

“There’s still someone he has to meet.”

Hakoda nodded. He hugged Katara tight. Then he watched as his daughter left for the cemetery, a woman now and no longer the little girl he had known.

Kya would have approved of Katara’s husband.

(Yes, she did; she did approve.)

* * *

_November 6th, 1912_

Six months. It took them six months to get to the North Pole.

Before they’d left Chippewa Falls, Gran-Gran had given Katara a slip of paper and whispered something in her ear. Now they were on their way. Not to Alaska, as Katara had thought. But to the actual North Pole. They travelled through Canada from South to North, stopping every few days or weeks to work menial jobs or sell drawings to keep going. From train station to train station, from town to town. They travelled the last few miles using a combination of Katara’s waterbending and Zuko’s arms pushing their canoe forward.

It appeared in the sunlight like a mirage.

At first, there was nothing but the blue of the ocean, the blue of the sky, the gold of the sun and the white of the icebergs. Then it appeared. Glinting like diamonds. An entire city made of ice, operated entirely by waterbending and shielded from the outside world by thick ice walls and the deadly environment all around. Katara shivered with delight.

They had arrived.

At first, Katara had expected a warm welcome. But when blades made of bone harpooned their canoe and the wall opened, nervousness settled in her stomach. They were welcomed by Chief Arnook and his daughter, Princess Yue.

“No one knows where this city is but our people. So tell me. What defines Tui and La?”

Katara rose to her feet in the canoe. She bowed.

“The Moon and Ocean have always circled each other in an eternal dance. They balance each other. Push and pull. Life and death. That has been the nature of their relationship for all time.”

She knew those words by heart. Gran-Gran’s words.

Arnook bowed his head.

“Good.” He moved his head in Zuko’s direction. “And who is he?”

“My husband. I trust him with my life.”

“I see.” 

She felt Princess Yue’s eyes look curiously down at her necklace, but Chief Arnook didn’t seem to find any interest in it. Instead, he said:

“Welcome to the North Pole. Please. Come in.” 

A day. 

It had taken a day for Pakku to reject her. A day to be sent to the healing hut as a good woman should. A day to be asked by squealing girls about her necklace and to reply by showing them her betrothal comb. A day to be told she only mattered as Zuko’s wife and as his healer. A day to be told…

“What do you mean, you won’t teach me? I didn’t travel across the world so you can tell me no!”

“No.”

“But there must be other female waterbenders in your tribe!”

“Here, the women learn from Yugoda to use their waterbending to heal. I’m sure she would be happy to take you as her student. Even with your bad attitude.”

Katara remembered lightning, cackling and the groaning of a ship now buried at the bottom of the ocean. She remembered Azula. 

She remembered she’d won.

“I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!”

“I can see that. But our tribe has customs. Rules.”

“Well, your rules fucking _suck!_ ”

Katara stormed away. She heard someone mumble about language. But she was done being polite. Pakku didn’t seem to want to give her the last word, though, because he said:

“I think your husband is waiting for you to cook dinner.”

It was a beautiful house, truly, made of intricate ice architecture. She wondered what her home would have looked like maybe in another world, where Gran-Gran had still run away from the North Pole and taken residence… maybe in the South Pole. Would her life be different, then? Would Pakku still tell her no?

Zuko had been accepted rather easily by the city folks and had been taken fishing for the day. Now she could smell cooking fish wafting in from beyond the animal pelt. It _wooshed_ as she walked in, but Katara barely heard the sound. She sniffed.

“Hey,” said Zuko, looking over his shoulder. “I was wondering when you… Katara?”

She didn’t answer. Katara stood there. Whole body tense. Her jaw was clenched, her hands were balled into fists. She was shaking all over. Katara shut her eyes tight, enjoying how the action grounded her. But barely. Just barely. Zuko walked over to her. He put his hands on her shoulders and said in her ear, in barely a whisper:

“Can I carry you?”

“What?”

“Can I carry you to bed?”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Katara nodded.

He picked her up, carefully putting her over his shoulder, and carried her to the bed made of soft animal pelts. He lay her down, then lay on the other side of the bed. Zuko scooted over until he was pressed against her back. He wrapped his arms around her middle and put his chin in the crook of her neck. All in silence.

“It’s okay. I’m here. Let it out.”

Only then did Katara _crack_. Her sobs echoed on the ice walls, broken only by her shaky attempts at breathing. Zuko remained silent, steadfast in his support. Katara was grateful. She was so grateful. Her fist punched the fur pelt with a dull thud.

“How could he? How _dare_ he tell me no?”

She sniffed and cried, breathed and cried. The tears felt hot and salty, burning holes into her eyelids. Eventually, her head started to ache and she swallowed through her clogged up throat. Katara shifted and turned around to face Zuko. He was blurry in her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“No need for that. I’m always going to be there. All right?”

He cupped her cheek with his hand and she smiled. Katara wiped her tears.

“Why did he say no?”

“Because I’m a woman.”

Zuko gaped at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. But don’t… don’t go to him. This is my fight.”

“Of course. But I’ll be there, by your side. If... you want me there.”

She kissed the palm of his hand. “Of course I want you there.”

“Good.”

Zuko had that look in his eyes. The same one he’d had when they’d been in that hotel room in New York. When he’d told her about their future.

“So tonight, we eat the fresh fish I caught myself today - yes, yes, I did, thank you very much! - and we talk and we drink a bit and we spar and we take a long, warm bath, and then we go to bed. And tomorrow, bright and early, you get to knock some sense into Pakku. What do you say?”

Katara chuckled.

“That sounds amazing.”

“Good. Now come on, darling. Your fish is waiting.”

Warmth. That’s the first thing Katara felt. Warmth. Warmth and softness. Warmth around her, softness under her. She’d had the best sleep of her life, with him by her side and the animal pelts around her. She’d shed her parka. Her sarashi was all she wore, leaving plenty of skin exposed to touch soft fur. Katara didn’t open her eyes just yet. She savored this moment, feeling him next to her. She was never cold with Zuko. It seemed like she hadn’t felt cold since the night of the sinking. And she loved that. She really did.

She loved him. She loved him _so much._

“Kaaaaataaaaaraaaaa…”

Something tickled her cheek. A finger. Barely grazing her skin.

“Kaaaaataaaaaraaaaa…”

“What?”

“Time to wake up.”

“I don’t wanna.”

Lips kissed her forehead. She felt his chuckle through his throat.

“We wouldn’t want to be late for Pakku, now, would we?”

Katara snapped her eyes open. She shot up in bed.

“Oh, Spirits! Pakku!”

“I knew that would wake you up. I’ll go make breakfast.”

She eyed him. Probably intensely. Because he didn’t move a muscle then.

“What about your meditation? And your firebending?”

“Nah, they can wait. I want to be in the front row when you confront him.”

“Aw, you’re too sweet.”

Zuko pushed the covers aside and stretched. Katara admired his strong back muscles for a moment. He grabbed his shirt, discarded on the floor, and once it was on, he made his way to the small little kitchen they’d been offered.

Katara slumped down on the bed. She sighed at the ceiling. 

Before she could fall back into sleep, though, Katara pushed her animal pelts aside and rose up, stretching, too. She shivered against the sudden cold. Katara grabbed her parka and thick pants and boots. Once they were on, she stepped in the kitchen. She froze in the doorway.

There was still a part of her that was unsure.

“You really think I can do it?”

Zuko froze, too. He put down his bowl of rice and stared at her. Katara bowed her head. She closed her eyes. Until she heard his voice. Then she looked up.

“Katara, this man may have years of experience under his belt, but I saw you beat Azula in a duel on a _sinking ship._ She was a Master at _fourteen_ . Fourteen! She could bend _lightning_ at that age.” He walked over to Katara and cupped her face with both his delightfully warm hands. With certainty, he told her: “I believe you can do anything. You’re gonna kick his ass.”

Katara chuckled.

“All right. I will.”

Katara pushed herself on the tip of her toes and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too. He has no idea what’s gonna hit him.”

* * *

_November 7th, 1912_

Zuko followed Katara to Chief Arnook’s Palace. He tried not to stare at anything and everything. His crowd back home, they’d thought _Titanic_ had been the most beautiful achievement ever done by Man. And yet they had no idea such a gem existed. The North Pole was truly, truly majestic. A work of art. And Zuko was blessed to be allowed to see it.

As Zuko followed after Katara and Master Pakku, though, he had to focus on the situation at hand. His hand rubbed discreet circles on the small of her back. She nodded.

“Chief Arnook!”

Pakku burst through the council doors, his voice echoing on the tall and wide walls. Voices died in the councilmen’s throats as everyone stared at Pakku, then at Katara, then at Zuko. Chief Arnook rose from his seat with a heavy, heavy sigh.

“Yes, Pakku? What is it, this time?”

After Pakku told Arnook the whole story, he looked at Katara with something different in his eyes. Something that reminded Zuko of Mai. 

“What do you want me to do? Force Master Pakku to take her as his student?”

He’d asked Zuko. Zuko remained silent. Katara answered.

“Yes!”

“He won’t. Now, I’d like you to swallow your pride and apologize to him.”

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. But he didn’t speak. For Katara’s sake.

This was her fight.

“No.” When Katara stomped her feet, the ice floor started to crack. Its creaks sent shivers down Zuko’s spine. “I am not apologizing to a sour old man like him!”

Zuko couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“I’ll be outside if you’re man enough to fight me.”

Katara walked outside. Zuko wanted to cheer, dance, take her in his arms and spin her around. But he remained poised, as one was taught to be in front of royalty, as one from his background was taught to since childhood. So he only smiled. Yet he found some amount of rebellion in him. And he turned his back on Chief Arnook on his way outside the Palace.

“Young man, you should control your wife!”

Zuko stopped. He spoke over his shoulder, not turning around:

“Katara and I’s marriage is a partnership. We are equal to each other. I have no more say in the matter than she does.” Zuko’s voice turning teasing and he scratched his cheek. “But even if I _had_ such power over her… I wouldn’t.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me right, sir.” A grin spread on his face. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t stop her. I’m enjoying myself way too much.”

With that, Zuko walked outside. He stood a few steps away from Katara, who was waiting patiently in the square, and gestured at the crowd that was staring curiously at them.

“Everyone? You might want to step back a little.” 

Everyone did as they were told. Leaving the square empty.

“Thank you. Katara?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Can you bend me a seat? I want to… Thank you.”

Zuko sat down. He watched.

Pakku appeared at the top of the staircase. People started whispering behind Zuko. What was going on? What did this girl want from Master Pakku? Zuko smiled. They were going to have quite the show. 

“So! You decided to show up.”

Pakku walked right past her. Unbothered. Once his back was turned to Katara, he said, in a mocking, condescending tone dripping from his mouth:

“Go back to the healing huts with the other women where you belong.”

Zuko’s hand balled into a fist. Katara’s did the same. She pulled at the snow from the ground. Turning it into a water whip. She whipped at the back of Pakku’s head.

The crowd. Oooooohed. Now they were catching on.

“Fine.” Pakku turned around. “You want to learn to fight so bad? Study closely!”

Pakku twirled around. Graceful. Two rivers of water rose from two pools to answer his call. Forming a wall around himself. Katara charged him. She was a blur, running at full speed towards him. She was met face first with a ball of water taller than she was. Katara grunted. Falling to the ground in a crouch. Pakku waved his arms. The wall of water surrounded them on all sides, spinning, spinning, spinning… 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” taunted Pakku. 

The wall of water shrunk, pushing at Katara’s back. She broke through it. The water spilled out amongst the crowd, drenching a few people. Some laughed. Others cheered.

Still, Zuko watched.

Katara grabbed a water whip and charged at Pakku again. Pakku transformed snow into a wall of ice. Katara ran up on the ice. She spun around in the air. Zuko held his breath.

She landed on her feet. Elegant.

Katara sent Pakku a glare. 

Pakku transformed the wall of ice into two giant waves. They were going to overwhelm her. Zuko’s hands gripped his knees tight. No need to worry. Katara dug her heels in. Literally. Ice rose from the ground, clothing her feet. As the waves came forward, Katara waved her arms. The waves circled around her and collapsed in and on themselves.

Katara rose up. She lifted two hands.

“You can’t knock me down!”

The crowd cheered. Zuko grinned. 

“Mom! Mom, I can’t see!”

Zuko blinked. He rose from his water-based seat and looked behind him. A little girl was standing next to a heavily-pregnant woman. Her mother, then. The little girl’s mother was also holding a baby. Zuko immediately pointed at his chair.

“Please, ma’am, take my seat.”

The woman’s mouth hung open. She shook her head. Vigorously.

“Oh! Well, if you don’t mind…”

“No, no, I really don’t.”

“Good. Thank you very much. It’s appreciated.”

Zuko helped the woman take his seat. The baby rested on her leg. The woman bounced her knee. Up and down, up and down. Only then did Zuko turn to the little girl. He crouched to her level.

“Hello. Hi.” 

The little girl hid behind an elderly man’s leg. Her grandfather, perhaps?

“Don’t be shy. I’m here as a friend. To you and your… grandfather?”

The old man laughed. Guffawed, really. He reminded Zuko of another old man he’d known very well. Zuko’s chest tightened at the sound.

“Indeed, indeed! I’m the lucky grandpa.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Turning to the little girl, Zuko added: “Do you want to get up on my shoulders?”

“Oh.” She looked at him. Wide-eyed. “Sir, I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“I really don’t mind. What’s your name?”

“Nini.”

“Hello, Nini. My name’s Zuko.”

He turned around, with his back facing Nini. 

“Now come on, hop on!”

Nini giggled. Zuko saw her grandfather nod encouragingly. Nini jumped on his shoulders, with two legs on either side of his head. Zuko’s gloved hands secure on Nini’s ankles, he walked up to stand next to her mother. They nodded at each other.

Only then did Zuko realize the fight had stopped momentarily.

Pakku was staring at him. As was… everyone else.

“Your husband is gentle,” said Pakku, though Zuko didn’t find any compliment in his voice. He turned to Katara. Mocking. “Maybe you should be more like him.”

Zuko laughed.

“I may be gentle, but I know how to pick my fights. Kick his ass, darling!”

A wave of laughter travelled through the crowd.

The fight resumed.

Katara charged Pakku again. He lifted a cascade of water, instantly turning it to ice. Katara punched at the ice, turning it back into water. It fell away. Katara punched. Hit. Kicked. Pakku blocked her every move. He waved his arms around once more and another wave circling around them. Katara didn’t anticipate.

With a cry, she was shoved in one of the pools.

Up on Zuko’s shoulders, he heard Nini gasp. He only bit his lip.

Pakku smiled.

Katara broke through the pool’s surface. She spat water. Katara’s eyes were icy. Focussed. Centred. She raised two hands on either side of her. A block of ice rose from the water. She waved her arms in outward circular motions. Razor sharp discs _flick-flick-flicked_ out of the block. Going straight for Pakku’s head.

He broke them off with his bare hands. One by one.

All except one. It _wooshed_ past him. Zuko saw Pakku’s reflection in the ice.

Ooh. Now he was scared.

Katara took on the offensive. She circled a wave of water around her. It charged at Pakku. Who waved his arms, spinning it around himself. The water landed behind him, turning into a small wave that coiled and exploded. 

Katara ran.

But Pakku was waiting for her. 

Two waves rushed at her. She fell at the feet of the staircase.

Katara breathed in. She breathed out.

Zuko smiled. Firebending came from the breath. But waterbending did, too.

Katara took the offensive.

She jumped up. With a growl, she pulled at two ice totems that stood on either side of Pakku. They toppled over. Pakku waved his arms. A white mist rose up. Surrounding him. 

People cheered again. Zuko felt himself tingling with pride.

“Did you see that?” asked Zuko to no one in particular. “Did you see that?!” 

“I saw that!” answered Nini.

Katara stood alone in front of the steps. Strands of hair had fallen out of her updo. The mist dissipated and snowflakes flew away. Pakku stood his ground.

“Well, I'm impressed. You are an excellent waterbender.”

“But you still won't teach me, will you?”

“No.”

Katara waved her arms over her head. She brought them down with a cry. The ice floor rose up, rolling onto itself. Pakku avoided Katara’s attack. He jumped up, created a pillar out of ice on which he landed. Pakku raised his arms, then swung them behind him. His pillar transformed into an avalanche, charging at Katara. A wave answered Katara’s call, smacking against Pakku’s avalanche. He jumped, transforming Katara’s wave into a bridge of ice. He slid down its length and punched at Katara’s neck. She fell with a yelp.

Katara sat up. Breathing heavily. 

Nini’s hands dug in Zuko’s head. He barely felt it.

Pakku raised his arms. An enormous wave rose from one of the pools. It spun around in the air, high above them. Pakku twitched his hands down. The water turned into a million icicles. Taller than Katara. They fell around Katara. Turning into a prison of ice.

Katara struggled. But it was no use.

Zuko exhaled.

It was over.

“This fight is over,” said Pakku.

He started to walk away.

“Come back here!” called Katara. “I’m not finished yet!”

“Yes. You are.”

Katara stopped struggling. It was as if all fight was drained from her. Her whole body slumped against the icicles. She closed her eyes. Zuko had only ever seen her like this once in his life. When they’d been in that water. In that cold, _cold_ water.

Zuko could still hear those screams in his sleep.

But he also remembered something, then.

Katara hadn’t given up. Not even that time.

“No. I’m not!”

Katara pushed against the ice until she broke free, raising her arms. These weren’t metal handcuffs. These were _water._ The icicles became a wave. She charged at Pakku once again. But this time, the water stayed behind her. Following her. She tackled Pakku, smacking their bodies down against the ground. Water surrounded them. Zuko could see through it; he saw Pakku spin around on his back. But as Pakku was trying to get back up…

Katara raised her arms. She froze them both solid. A foot above the ground.

Like she’d done with Azula.

Zuko raised his fist.

“YES!”

Katara breathed out. She only unfroze the parts of the ice around herself. Katara emerged from the ice. Tired. Worse for wear. But she emerged.

Pakku’s eyes barely moved inside the ice. They told everyone in no uncertain terms…

That Katara had won.

She brought her hands down. The ice turned to water once more. Flowing away. But she wasn’t quite done yet. Pakku fell hard on his back. But as Katara raised her hands, palms out, she froze his arms and legs. Leaving him prisoner to his own element.

“Do you yield?” asked Katara, standing above Pakku.

Pakku’s mouth settled in a firm line. Until he fell back against the ice. Defeated.

“Yes. I yield.”

The crowd roared. Zuko jumped up and down. Nini held on to his head, pulling at his hair. Zuko didn’t mind. He felt too overjoyed to mind. Raising his arms up, he laughed.

“THAT’S MY WIFE!”

Katara freed Pakku. She offered him her hand. 

He took it. 

Once standing upright, Pakku squinted his eyes at Katara. He frowned. 

“I know that necklace. It’s… mine.”

Zuko’s jaw dropped.

* * *

_November 7th, 1912_

That night, trying to forget the strange knowledge that _Pakku_ , of all people, had once been betrothed to Gran-Gran - and she was eternally grateful that Gran-Gran had ran away when she had the chance -, Katara went to Yugoda’s hut for the last time.

“I’m saddened you won’t be my student anymore. You learn quickly, Katara,” praised Yugoda with a warm smile. “Have you used your waterbending to heal before?”

“I have.” 

She didn’t want to elaborate. So Katara pushed on:

“Is there something else you can show me? Before I go, I mean.”

“Well… there is a practice I learned from Hama, a Southern waterbender.”

Joy burst inside Katara.

“You knew Hama? She taught me back home!”

“She did? That’s amazing! Did she tell you about bloodbending, then?”

Katara balked. Her stomach churned. 

“ _Blood_ bending? No! She… She didn’t have the time… Why would she make me want to know…? That sounds disgusting.”

Yugoda put her hands on her hips. She looked severe in the bluish hue of the hut.

“There is no form of bending that is disgusting. Bending is nature. There are no good things or bad things, only what you do with them. Bloodbending is a sacred art. It is an art, born of resistance and rebellion. It has saved many before.”

Katara shuffled her feet.

“I’m sorry. It has… saved many before? How?”

“Bloodbending is most powerful during the full moon, but if channeled correctly, it can be done in small ways any time you want. It can be used as a protection against attackers, for you and others. And it can be used in healing. Against blood diseases or heart failures for example, and can be used to calm the mind by slowing heart rates. It is powerful and useful.”

“I like that. When can I start learning it?”

“I’ll show you tonight.”

Under the light of the full moon, patient Yugoda taught Katara bloodbending. She taught it as a strength, as a source of power, but not as a source to inherently gain power over others. She taught her, she guided her, on how to use it for good, for kindness, for assistance. She taught it as it was. A blessing. Natural. 

Then Yugoda told Katara she was ready.

One month. It took her one month to master waterbending.

Katara was grateful for her husband’s support. Zuko encouraged her through it all. She never backed down from any fight and practiced until she perfected every form, even late into the night. Every night a warm meal and a foot massage was waiting for her. Refreshed, she was always up at dawn the next morning, as instructed by Pakku. The day she beat Pakku’s last standing student, he showed true humility and a hint of sass when he said, while Zuko watched in silence, off to the side:

“Nice try, Pupil Sangok. A couple of more years and you might be ready to fight a sea sponge. Would anyone care for a rematch with Katara?” No one spoke. Katara beamed with pride. Then, Pakku turned to Katara. “Katara, you've advanced more quickly than any student I've ever trained. You have proven that with fierce determination, passion and hard work, you can accomplish anything. Congratulations, Master Katara.”

He bowed to her. She felt like she was walking on clouds. 

Katara bowed.

“Thank you, Master Pakku.”

That night, they were invited for a great banquet in honour of Princess Yue’s birthday. That night, they also said goodbye to their new friends. Ready for new adventures.

The next morning, they left the North Pole behind. The isolated ice city grew too small for them. That’s what would happen for them from now on. As soon as someplace felt too small or constricting, they’d travel. Looking for new adventures. They headed south and west first. Leaving Alaska’s coast behind, they travelled further and further west, until they made it to Japan. Kyoto welcomed them with open arms. 

They stayed far from _those_ crowds, though. None of them wanted to wake up and find Mai on their doorstep one morning. 

Kyoto was beautiful. Their second wedding on January 1rst, 1913, was beautiful too, though a lot less extravagant than Zuko’s wedding to Mai in Japan would have been, of course. They were happy nonetheless. It snowed the night before the wedding, covering the entire city under its blanket, and the morning was bright with sunlight. Katara couldn’t help but smile. As if the universe was on their side. Water and fire coexisting. 

Opposites bonded together.

* * *

_January 1rst, 1913_

They tried to keep him from her. They tried to keep him from her so. _Hard._

He’d tell her all about it later. How he’d been found amongst the icebergs, saved from his bubble of air. How he’d contacted her parents. How her father had categorically refused to tell him of her whereabouts and how her mother had diplomatically said they had no idea where she was. How he’d figured it out anyway by charming his way through the Beifong household staff - those she kept in touch with - with a smile and a wink. How he’d been trying to find her for months but every time he got somewhere she’d been, she was already gone. Always too late. Sometimes even a few hours too late. Until one day, she decided to settle down. Just to see how she fared at the Earth Rumble. 

(Toph won her way to the top, of course.)

But that night, she didn’t know any of those things. 

Toph didn’t know he was there. She felt him, of course. She _felt_ him. Light, so impossibly light on his feet. But during her travels, she’d met a few airbenders herself. She’d even stayed at one of the Air Temples. For a short while. She’d known how light they all were on their feet. And so she’d lost hope a long time ago that Aang would come back to her.

And yet… there was something different at play here. 

Hesitancy.

Airbenders never hesitated. She’d learned that a long time ago.

There was a knock at the door. Interrupting her musings.

“Hey, Blind Bandit?”

Toph finished fastening her Champion’s belt and opened her rock door wide with a wave of her hand. She crossed her arms over her chest. 

Grounded. As always.

“Yes, Boulder? What is it?”

“It’s _THE_ Boulder.”

“I don’t care. What do you want?”

“There’s… someone here. He says he knows you.”

The Boulder moved aside. There he was, walking forward. The airbender she’d felt walking into the Earth Rumble arena some time ago. There was a moment of silence. Hesitant. A Sky Bison - smaller than others she’d met at the Temple - groaned. Happily. 

As if awkward, the Boulder excused himself and left. 

Wait. He _excused_ himself? 

The Boulder was never polite. So what in the Spirits’ names was going on here?

“Yes? Who are you?”

A moment of silence. Then...

“Hello, Toph. Do you remember me?”

Her jaw dropped.

“Aang?”

Toph was never unsettled. She was the Greatest Earthbender in the world for a reason. She was like the rocks she bended. Grounded. Solid. She never lost her footing. Never. 

This time, though, she did. 

She felt the ground fly from under her feet. Wind _wooshed_ in her ears. She was whisked away. Soon enough, Toph found herself landing on her armchair’s soft cushions in her room. Swept off her feet by Aang. 

_Aang._

He was here. He was here, he was here, he was _here_. And that Sky Bison… was it Appa? It trotted over to her, sitting on the side of the chair. Drool fell on her arm. Yep. Yep, that was Appa, all right. So it meant… it meant it was…!

“This can’t be…! Am I dreaming? What’s happening? You’re not real, you can’t be real. You’re dead! You…” Her voice cracked. “You’re _dead._ ”

“Turns out… I’m not.”

It _was_ Aang. It _was_ him. His voice, his soft, melodious voice...

“But… how?”

“Airbender.” 

_Airbender_. 

As if it was that simple. As if it was that simple to come back from the dead. 

To come back to her.

“It’s me, Toph. I’m really here.”

His hands guided hers over his face. That jawline, the gentle slope of his nose, the softness of his skin, the roughness of his tattoos… it was him. It was _unmistakably_ him.

Toph breathed out. In relief.

“Twinkle Toes.”

She could feel him smile under her palm.

“Hey, Toph.”

“You’re here.”

“I’m here.” 

It was almost automatic. She punched his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“I love you, okay? And you made me think you were _dead._ ”

Aang chuckled.

“All right. I guess that was justified. I’m sorry. And, um… I love you too.” She felt him rubbing his shoulder with one hand. “Look, Toph, uh… I’ll… I’ll explain everything later. I promise. But for now… can I?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can.”

He kissed her and she kissed him. They’d only had the time to kiss once on that doomed ship. Just once. And it hadn’t been enough. Aang’s arms curled around her, holding her close. Toph wrapped herself around him, her legs ensnaring his hips and her hands travelling up and down his back, probably almost crushing him in the process. But he felt good, he felt so, so _good_. 

Toph still couldn’t quite believe it. He was soft and he was here and he was home and he’d come back to her. He’d found her. He’d come _back_. 

From the _dead._

“You can go for a walk, Appa,” Aang told him. Voice… _strained._ “I’ll be right here.”

Appa groaned again. Toph felt his footsteps leaving the room. 

They were alone now.

_Good._

Toph kissed Aang. Again… and again… and…

“I’m so glad you’re back...”

“I’m happy to be back...”

“Come here…”

“Yeah… I’ll follow you… anywhere you want to go...”

Toph waved her hand. The rock door closed with barely a sound.

The Earth Rumble could wait.

* * *

_January 10th, 1913_

Katara and Zuko didn’t stay long in Kyoto. There was nothing left for Zuko there for now, not after the sinking. Katara could see behind his eyes, could see the memories flickering in them. Not all of them happy. On their last day in Kyoto, they received a letter from Aang. They’d been made aware of his survival just a few days after Toph had disappeared without a trace. But he’d found her, somewhere around the world, and they wanted to travel together. Together with Appa, of course. 

Katara felt herself overwhelmed with joy at the thought.

That was what they deserved, too.

On the day they were set to leave Kyoto, though, Zuko had one last trip to make. He didn’t tell her where they were going… but she had a faint idea she knew where and why.

She was right.

“Hi, Mom. This is Katara. She’s my wife.”

Katara hoped Ursa would have approved of her as Zuko’s wife. She really hoped so.

(Yes, she did; she did approve.)

Leaving Kyoto behind, they travelled west again. Shanghai flew by. Zuko made one stop in a shop there, where he bought a handheld camera on a whim. He took great pleasure in taking pictures of anything and everything, and then he started taking pictures of Katara everywhere. They travelled the countryside, working odd jobs in small towns and villages as often as they could. It was quite cold at this time of the year, but Zuko’s firebending could always be counted upon to keep them warm. Even if they camped outside. In the snow.

When they stayed in villages and small towns, many marvelled at Katara’s portraits. Her evenings were spent sketching smiling, kind people and earning more money for the road. They met a little boy named Lee who asked them for help on his father’s farm. They were only happy to oblige, and Katara couldn’t help but draw his bright smile, with its missing teeth.

One day as they had stopped to take some water from a river, Katara stopped her waterbending and looked behind her. She was… Yes. She was hearing something. 

Music.

Someone was playing music.

“Da, da, da!” 

Someone was singing. Somewhat off-key. 

“Don't fall in love with the traveling girl. She'll leave you broke and brokenhearted!”

A group of nomads soon appeared, walking out of the bushes on the river bank.

“Hey, river people!”

Katara blinked.

“We’re not river people.”

“You're not? Well, then, what kind of people are you?”

She sent Zuko a look. He shrugged.

“Just ... people.”

The man grinned.

“Aren’t we all, sister?”

Soon enough, Katara found herself sitting around a campfire amidst the group of travelling musicians. A flower crown - where they’d found flowers at this time of year, she had no idea - was put upon her head by Chong and Lily. Zuko asked her not to laugh when a flower crown was put on his own head, but she only smiled at the sight and called him adorable. When he blushed, he looked even more adorable. 

“So, where are you going?” asked Zuko as Lily braided his hair.

It had gotten longer and longer as they’d travelled. And honestly, Katara hoped he wouldn’t cut it, except maybe for a short trim. She liked him with long hair. It suited him.

“We’re not going anywhere. We’re nomads, we just go wherever we want to.”

“Us too,” said Katara. “I want to see Omashu, though.”

“Omashu? Huh. There's an old story about a secret pass right through the mountains.”

Katara froze. She looked from Chong to Zuko. He seemed as intrigued as her, though he barely showed it. She could see his interest in the tension in his jawline. Could it be…?

“Is this real or a legend?” 

“Oh, it's a real legend. And it's as old as earthbending itself.” Chong strummed his lute and started to sing. “Two lovers, forbidden from one another, the war divides their people and the mountain divides them apart! Built a path to be together!” Chong stopped playing. He _tsk_ ed. “Yeah, I forget the next couple of lines, but then it goes…”

“Secret tunnel, secret tunnel, secret tunnel?”

Chong pointed a finger at Katara.

“Yeah! That’s right, sister!”

“I’ve… heard about that legend before. I was hoping we could see the Cave.”

“Oh, wonderful! We could go with you!”

Of course, they should have known the Cave was cursed. Once they found themselves stuck and separated from the group, Katara couldn’t quite believe this was really happening. Her fingers gripped her torch tight until her hand hurt. She groaned in the flickering light.

“Just our luck, isn’t it?”

Zuko laughed and the small flame hovering above his palm flickered. 

“What? You and I? Having bad luck? Nah. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Doesn’t sound familiar at all.”

When they reached an opened door, goosebumps grew on Katara’s arms. It wasn’t from the cold, either. Just having Zuko and fire by her side made her warm. But she knew there was something beyond that darkened threshold. Something important. 

“Ready?” 

“Always ready.”

They found it. No. They found _them._ The tomb. A statue had been erected in Oma and Shu’s honour. They would be kissing for eternity. Set in stone. Katara blinked away tears. They weren’t of sadness. Or even joy. They were tears of awe. 

Would they be remembered? Would they become legends, too?

“It’s… Is it…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Katara read the inscription under her breath. She smiled.

“Do you remember what I told you? When we were on the ship?”

“How could I forget?”

Zuko’s eyes glittered, reflecting the flickering light of the torch. It cast its orange light and dark shadows all around. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Love is brightest in the dark.”

Zuko blinked twice. He looked around. As if an idea had appeared in his head. He waved his hand and the little flame in his palm disappeared. He walked over to Katara, as darkness was slowly falling upon them. The torch was going out. Little by little.

“May I?”

Katara nodded. 

He snuffed out the torch. 

At first there was only darkness. Katara’s hand found Zuko’s. She counted the seconds. One… two… three… Green light burst through the cave. The ceiling was covered in green crystals, illuminating their paths towards… the exit, she presumed. 

None of them wanted to leave just yet, though. She could see it in Zuko’s eyes. He was just as awed as she was. Maybe even more. The soft green light made everything a sickly green, but it wasn’t strange or bizarre. It just was. It was nature; it was beautiful. Zuko blinked quickly. He rubbed at his eye with his sleeves. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“It really is.”

Zuko swallowed. He took in a deep breath. Breathed out.

“You know… if it hadn’t been for you… I wouldn’t be here.”

“I wouldn’t be here either.”

“I mean it, Katara.” He took both her hands in his, facing her. “I’m not talking about the sinking. I’m talking about all that came before. You offered me a whole new world I never thought could exist for me. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And even then… it doesn’t seem enough.”

“Life is enough, I think.”

He smiled. Softly. His shoulders slumped. Zuko blinked. Quickly. 

“Yeah. Life is enough.”

She slid her hand into his and leaned against him. Sharing his warmth. An idea sparked in Katara’s mind. She looked up at Zuko with a grin.

“Hey… I think I know where I want to go next.”

Zuko brought Katara closer. He kissed her. Sweetly.

“I’ll follow you wherever you go. Always.”

* * *

_February 10th, 1913_

Kanna received Katara’s message not long after that. Katara and Zuko were going back east afterwards. Katara’s original idea was to go straight to the West Coast, but when she got a letter back from Kanna threatening her to come home at least just a few weeks like last time _or else_ , she told her they couldn’t resist. They were coming home. For a while.

Once again, Kanna was knitting when she heard the knock at the door.

“Katara! Zuko! Come in, come in!”

It was a joyful night. Zuko looked more in love with her with each passing day and Katara was glowing. Kanna had a feeling she knew why. But now didn’t seem to be the time to ask unwonted questions. So she kept quiet. Kanna only listened as they told her of their latest adventures, a lot less terrifying than the first time around. Hakoda and Bato were there at the dinner table this time around, too. And later on, they gathered with the entire neighborhood for another theatre night.

Kanna wasn’t expecting their other visitor. The next morning. She wasn’t expecting him at all. So she was caught off guard when she opened the door… to find a familiar face.

_Pakku._

“Get out of my house!”

“Kanna… please. I can explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Go away.”

He looked at her, mouth agape and eyes so terribly sad. But she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to hear nothing of it. He wasn’t going to guilt-trip her into changing her mind. 

She was going to die on this hill. And Kanna was proud of it.

But of course, Pakku pushed on.

“I came all this way here from the North Pole… and you’re not even going to hear me out? Please, please understand… I’ve… I’ve changed, I…”

“How?”

Kanna stared him down. Pakku fidgeted.

“How? Well, um…”

Kanna huffed. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Katara told me. She told me she had to literally wrestle with you until you allowed her to be taught waterbending. You haven’t changed, you’ve been telling women no for decades, even after I’ve left! You were going to turn her away and you didn’t only because she was my granddaughter. She had something to prove to you. Well, I have nothing to prove to you and I want you to get out of my house. Right now!”

Pakku looked over Kanna’s shoulder. She didn’t even look back. She could see his gaze had landed on someone. Behind her.

“Katara. Zuko. You’re here.”

“We are, Pakku,” said Katara. 

She sounded… conflicted. And she probably was. He had been her Master, after all. So there was probably some amount of respect in there. 

“Please help me reason with…”

“This is her choice. I can’t speak for her.”

But Katara also knew Kanna. And Kanna knew that. They shared their stubbornness. Inherited, perhaps. This was Kanna’s decision. Not anyone else’s.

“Zuko, please,” Pakku tried again. “You know how these go. Arranged marriages.”

Kanna heard him take a sharp breath. Then, Zuko huffed.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Please… let me explain.”

“I don’t have to. Because my voice holds no weight in all of this. This is Gran-Gran’s decision and no one else’s. She’s the only one who matters here.”

“But… But I’ve changed.”

“I don’t care.”

“Zuko… You can’t possibly…”

“She told us who you were back then. She _told_ us. You hurt her so much, Master. And you hurt all those women before and after her. She has the right to tell you to leave.”

“But… Kanna, she’s the love of my life. I never wanted to hurt her. Listen, I… I was… I was following tradition!” When Pakku didn’t seem to find any support, he tried a different tactic. “Please… When they tried to keep you from Katara…”

Again, Zuko took in a sharp breath.

Kanna’s hands clenched into fists. The _gall_ of this man. Was he really implying…?

“You weren’t Katara in this situation, Master Pakku!” Zuko’s voice was strong, aching, with a hint of harshness. Pakku had hit a nerve. “You were Mai. And if in sixty years from now, Mai came groveling back home saying she was sorry and she’d _changed_ … Even if she _had…_ I still wouldn’t want to give her the time of day.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell Gran-Gran. And I think that’ll be more than enough.”

“Right.” 

Pakku’s eyes landed on Kanna once again. Pleading. There was a tiny, a teeny tiny part of her that told her… maybe… just maybe…

But no. “Maybe” didn’t erase decades worth of history.

“Farewell, Pakku.”

“Goodbye, Kanna.”

Her hand on the doorknob, Kanna was about to close the door. Until she said:

“Good luck with your waterbending school.”

He nodded.

“Good luck with your life.”

Kanna almost felt sorry for Pakku. Almost. But as the door closed behind him, she knew she’d made the right decision. Her legs buckled from under her and she found herself wrapped in a tight hug by Katara and Zuko. Hakoda arrived belatedly, but he joined them immediately. Without asking questions. Kanna found herself wrapped in the tightest hug she’d ever been pulled in. 

She cried that night.

The weight of closure settled in her bones, decades and decades after she’d left home. She’d found love and support after running from the North Pole. She’d found a husband and children and grandchildren who cared and respected her for her.

Kanna never felt bad about Pakku ever again.

* * *

_February 11th, 1913_

They stayed in Chippewa Falls for two weeks. 

Those two weeks… turned out to be more eventful than Katara had predicted, though.

It all started when they got a letter in the mail.

“A letter? For me?”

Zuko stared at her. Katara saw it in his eyes. She saw the fear and the doubts. Scenarios had sprouted in his mind. What if it was from Mai? What if she’d found him and was going to send in someone to bring him back to Japan, kicking and screaming? 

What if, what if, what if..?

“Yeah,” said Katara, somewhat uncertain. “It’s… I don’t know who it’s from. At all.”

“There’s nothing that says who sent it?”

“Nope. Nothing.”

Huh. How… peculiar. It wasn’t from Mai, then, he explained.

She always signed her letters with the Agni family crest.

Still looking cautious, Zuko took the letter and opened it.

His jaw dropped when he read. 

“Come on, what does it say?” pressed on Kanna. “Who is it from?”

He read aloud:

_Dear Zuzu,_

_Hi! I heard you’ve been through a lot. Hope you’re doing all right!_

_It’s Ty Lee, by the way, if you didn’t know. Well, obviously, you didn’t know! I’ve been trying to lay low for a while. Like you, I think? I was able to track you down. I won’t tell you how - a woman is entitled to her secrets! - , but I can assure you Mai will know nothing about this. Don’t worry. We’re not exactly… on speaking terms anymore. It’s a long story._

_Anyway! That’s not why I’m writing you._

_I left home a while ago and I’m happy to say that I joined the circus! We’re coming to Wisconsin in a few days and I’d really like it if we could have a chat! I bet you have a lot to say. Bring anyone you want and when you arrive, say you’re with me. They’ll know!_

_Hope to see you soon!_

_Ty Lee._

Zuko looked up. Looking… shocked.

“When’s the next time the circus will be in town?”

Katara thought for a second. 

“I heard Barnum & Bailey are coming in three days.”

They all looked at each other.

_No way._

That was how Katara, Zuko, Dad, Gran-Gran and Bato found themselves at the circus. As soon as they arrived and Zuko told the man at the ticket booth that he was with Ty Lee, Gran-Gran, Dad and Bato were taken to their seats while Katara and Zuko were ushered backstage. Amongst the acrobats, the knife throwers, the trapeze artists, the dancers, singers, bearded women… Barnum & Bailey employed airbenders, waterbenders, firebenders, earthbenders, non-benders. Whoever wanted or could give a hand. 

Katara couldn’t help but be awed. Everything was alive backstage. People practicing, costumes being adjusted, props being prepared. Everything breathed, roared, lived.

Yep. A circus. That was the word.

“Zuzu! Over here!”

Zuko had stiffened at the nickname, but it was only Ty Lee. In a glitzy costume.

“Oh, it's been too long! Is this your wife? Hello! I’m so happy to meet you! I’m...”

Ty Lee buzzed around them. Her bubbly personality seemed to be exacerbated by the circus’ vibrant environment. Katara had trouble believing _this_ girl had once been friends with Mai or Azula. She couldn’t be more different. But then she learned, as Ty Lee pratted on, that she’d been the daughter of esteemed financiers. And then everything made more sense.

Ty Lee was still strange. But honestly, who wasn’t strange at the circus?

“Oh! Have you seen the time! Hurry, hurry, hurry! Or you’ll miss the show!”

“But…” Zuko blinked. Taken aback. “But I thought you said you wanted to catch up.”

“We’ll have all the time in the world later on. Don’t worry!”

“Huh, huh…”

Ty Lee pushed them away, back towards the public’s entrance. She slipped a few tickets in Katara’s hands and winked. As they were pushed away, though, Katara saw one of the trapeze artists - at least, she thought she was a trapeze artist, what with her red leotard and golden tulle swishing behind her - walk up to Ty Lee.

“Ready for the show?”

“Always!”

Katara smiled. She took Zuko’s hand, guiding him through the cheerful but rather… for lack of a better word… _confusing_ backstage. Everywhere around them, there was something to look at, in awe and amazement. Katara was barely paying attention to where she was going. Then she almost ran into… someone else. Amidst the chaos of preparations, Katara found herself staring at… the circus owner? Perhaps?

“Oh! Pardon me.”

“I’m sorry! Mr…?”

“Carlyle. Phillip Carlyle.” Phillip Carlyle looked at them and smiled. “Would you mind if I guide you to your seats? These parts are a minefield at this hour, I’m afraid.”

“Um… thanks,” said Zuko. “That’s appreciated.”

Mr. Carlyle found his way through the circus’ bric-à-brac with the ease of an experienced circus performer. People waved at him, squeezed his shoulder, and said hello. Mr. Carlyle knew everyone by name and nickname. He answered in kind. Always.

“If you go there, you can reach your seats,” he said, reaching a curtain.

When Katara looked over his shoulder, she saw Gran-Gran, Dad and Bato waving at them from their seats. She waved back with a grin.

“So what’s your act, Mr. Carlyle?” asked Katara.

He smiled. 

“Well, my act’s been over for a while now. That doesn’t mean I can’t lend a hand.”

“Hm, hm…”

There was a curt moment of silence. Then Mr. Carlyle clasped his hands together.

“I’ll be off to see my wife, now. Anne always tries to give a pep talk to the trapeze artists before we start. Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you.”

He walked away. Humming a love song.

“What if we rewrite the stars…”

Katara turned to Zuko. He was smiling. Looking after the man’s retreating back.

“Come on, I don’t want to miss it!”

Katara grabbed his hand and Zuko followed after her. Always just a step behind. The curtain rustled when they pushed it aside. Grinning at each other, Katara and Zuko took their seats next to Gran-Gran, Dad and Bato. 

Waiting for the show to start. 

The lights were turned off… and it started. 

“ _Wooooahhh!”_

_Thump! Thump, thump!_

_Ladies and gents, this is the moment you’ve waited for..._

* * *

_February 24th, 1913_

Soon enough, though, the two weeks were over and they felt it was time to leave.

After visiting Kya, they took their train west. 

* * *

_April 14th, 1913_

They spent the one year anniversary of the sinking while travelling. 

Zuko bought a bottle of wine and they raised their glasses to those who had survived and, especially, to those who hadn’t.

* * *

_July 11th, 1913_

By the time summer rolled around, Zuko and Katara arrived on the West Coast. Almost as soon as they set foot in sunny California they met a man named Varrick who took them on a tour around the coast in his yacht. A few weeks later, Zuko was already employed by Varrick to act in his films. They were a bit… strange, of course. But Varrick remained optimistic. He was certain the movie industry would one day know the name of one Zuko La.

Zuko smiled.

An actor. He was _an actor_. 

Zuko couldn’t quite believe it. Had it only been a few months prior when Katara and him were stuck in that cave, on the other side of the ocean? And now here they were, back in America. He was an actor and she was an artist.

Speaking of an artist, Zuko was looking for Katara.

Zuko left Varrick’s studio (located inside a refurbished warehouse) and found his way around Santa Monica. Zuko went directly to the Pier. He knew she loved to look at the open ocean at sunset. It was her favourite time of day.

But when he arrived, she wasn’t there.

Around him, the world roared, screamed, rumbled. People screeched with delight up on the roller coaster. Others tried foods or simply looked out upon the open ocean. It was a beautiful day in Santa Monica today, full of sunshine and soft breezes. Zuko walked through the crowd, looking for her. The smells of candy and salt water toyed with his nostrils. 

Zuko walked over to the very edge of the pier, hands resting on the railing and watching the waves, pink and purple and orange under the fiery sky, lapping against the shore. A beautiful place, really. It reminded him of another railing, another sunset...

Katara wasn’t anywhere on the pier. Instead, he found a silhouette standing on the shore, in the distance. He set out to find her.

Zuko’s toes dug in the soft sand. He’d removed his shoes and was carrying them in one hand while the other held his trusty camera. Zuko walked and walked and walked. Katara was farther than anticipated. Finally, he reached her. She was sitting in the sand now, a few steps away from the crashing waves. Her sketchbook - they’d bought a new one way back in Chippewa Falls, after the last one had sunk with the ship - was open in her lap and she was drawing a few swimmers with impressive details. As always. Zuko plopped down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey. How’s the sunshine?”

“Pretty great. I could get used to this. How about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty great, too. Varrick has me wearing some… strange costumes for _Love Amongst the Dragons_ , but apart from that, I’m happy.”

She kissed his cheek. “I’m happy, too.”

Katara returned to her drawing and Zuko let her finish. She showed it to the swimmers as they stepped out of the water and their father, sitting on the beach, took it with grateful hands. Katara was handed a dime and thanked the man warmly. 

They stayed there by the ocean, sitting next to each other, leaning onto each other. Katara put her head in the crook of his neck. This moment of silence dragged on and on, but as it did, Zuko felt that… somehow… it was growing nervous. Katara was nervous. What would she be nervous about?

“Zuko… there’s something I need to tell you.”

He looked at her, suddenly nervous, too.

“Yeah? What is it?”

At first, she didn’t say anything. Then she took his hand… and put it on her stomach.

“I’m pregnant.”

Zuko’s jaw dropped. He looked at their hands, clasped on her stomach. He looked back at her eyes. At their hands. At her eyes. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! I would never joke about something like that.”

Zuko couldn’t wrap his head around… around… they were...

“We’re going to have a baby?”

“Yeah. We’re going to have a baby.”

Something burned behind his eyes. Something salty. Raw. When Zuko blinked, he realized he was crying. With a laugh, he wrapped Katara in his arms, pulling her even closer. Zuko buried his face in her hair, closing his eyes. He was going to have a baby, he was going to have a baby! With her, with Katara!

They were having a baby!

But then Zuko looked at her. Absolutely terrified.

“What if I’m a terrible father? What if… What if I’m like _my_ father?”

She stared at him. For a long moment.

Gently, so gently, Katara cupped his face with her hands. She kissed him, a touch of the lips, and put her forehead against his. Looking deep into his eyes.

“I promise you. You’re going to be a great Dad,” said Katara. “Like Iroh and my Dad.”

A soft smile appeared on Zuko’s face. Devotion settled in his chest. It was the greatest compliment she could have ever offered him. Grateful. He was truly grateful. Zuko kissed Katara. Sweetly. Lovingly. Then, he lied down on the soft sand, his camera resting on his belly, looking up at the sky at sunset. Katara curled up against his side. 

He breathed in. Breathed out. Zuko hoped he would be. He hoped he’d be like Uncle and Hakoda. A good Dad. No, a _great_ Dad. As Katara had said. It was what they deserved. What those future babies deserved.

A Dad. He was going to be a _Dad_.

“Can we stay out here forever?” asked Katara.

“I’d like that.” Zuko looked at his wristwatch. “But, well, I don’t know.”

Katara sent him a _look._

“You don’t know?”

“I have a surprise for you. Wouldn’t want to be late.”

“A surprise? Really?”

“Hm, hm. Come on.”

He’d never forget the way Katara’s whole face lit up when she saw the two beautiful horses he’d booked just for them. She squealed, jumping up and down, kicking sand everywhere. With extreme gentleness, she approached one of the horses. A lovely brown mare named Nyla. Zuko helped Katara up, then he mounted his own horse.

And off they went. 

Zuko looked out front, blinking against the salty air. He’d put his hair in a ponytail today and strands of it had fallen off, floating in the wind. When he looked behind him at Katara, he smiled even more. Her whole face was scrunched up with joy, skin glowing under the sun, and with the Santa Monica Pier in the background… it all looked too magical to be true. To think that only a year ago, none of this would have even been allowed to him… he never stopped thinking he was blessed. Every day that he woke up and breathed.

Alive. He was blissfully alive.

And he was going to have a baby. They were going to have a baby.

“Woah.”

Zuko’s horse stopped in the sand. Katara stopped, just behind him.

“What? What is it?”

“I want to... _immortalize_ this moment. Do you mind?”

She scoffed. “Always so dramatic. You know I don’t mind!”

Zuko photographed her. 

Taking a deep breath, Zuko looked at her one more time. Katara was beautiful as always and he knew that every day that passed, she’d only glow more. In beauty, in brilliance, in everything. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the crashing waves, feeling the salt on his tongue and breathing in the wind caressing his face. He knew nothing would be easy. Nothing was ever easy with them. But he hoped this life would be kind to them, after going through what they’d been through. 

No. 

As long as he had Katara by his side, he _knew_ life would be good. He didn’t quite know what the future held or what their own destiny had in store for them, but he knew that as long as he was with her, he’d be all right.

Zuko closed his eyes.

* * *

_April 18th, 1996_

Zuko opened his eyes.

The memory of Santa Monica faded, leaving him not on a beach in California, but in their home in Chippewa Falls. Zuko looked around their office. Artefacts from lifetimes ago decorated every nook and cranny, books in bookshelves and hats on hooks and knick knacks and trinkets on every surface available. Almost a hundred years worth of… well… worth of _stuff_ made this house a home. 

No. That wasn’t what made this house a home.

Katara did. Katara and Korra and their kids and grandkids and great-grandkids did. As they came and went. On their way to discover the world at their own pace.

When Zuko got up to stretch, his old bones ached, no longer the young man he had once been. His hair had been drained of its colour a long time ago, too. But he was still Zuko, the one who melted when he looked in a certain waterbender’s eyes and who had fallen head first in love with Katara. All those years ago. On that doomed ship.

He was still Zuko. A much, much, _much_ older Zuko, an almost-a-century-older Zuko, but Zuko nonetheless.

Zuko sat down at his desk. Off to the side stood a picture he’d taken at the circus, standing alongside Auntie Ty Lee, Auntie Anne, Auntie Toph and Uncle Aang. Next to it was another of them - Izumi, Kya, Iroh, Katara and himself - a rare picture he’d allowed them to take - on the grand opening day of the Jasmine Dragon. Then, Zuko looked at the business proposition sitting there, in black ink on white paper. An offer from Kyoto. 

They wanted to open another Jasmine Dragon over there. 

Zuko would always remember the day he and Katara had cut that big red ribbon, welcoming their first guests - Toph, Aang, Kanna, Bato, Hakoda, their friends in Chippewa Falls, Ty Lee, Anne and the circus troupe, of course. They’d decorated the walls with hundreds of photographs, some of their regular customers, who quickly became family, and others of those who had been family, and would remain so forever. 

Their children were some of the most prominent, smiling and laughing and playing pranks on each other at different stages of their lives. 

Others were perhaps even more precious. Pictures of Sokka, Suki, Uncle Iroh, Jet, Aang, Toph. They’d contacted families, friends, people who had known them and had told old stories while reminiscing about their deceased loved ones. Some of these pictures were found by rummaging through old attics and looking through shoe boxes. Some of these smiling faces were frozen in time. Zuko swallowed. To think… he’d known some of them for such a short amount of time…

Life had been taken from them too soon.

Just thinking about travelling to his home city with Katara one more time made him warm inside. It would be good to travel again. Druk needed the exercise.

Somewhere in the house, the television was on, but he was too far off to hear. That was why Zuko was surprised when he heard a knock at the door. 

Katara pushed it open, lingering in the doorway. She smiled at him.

“I was just about to come get you to sign this with me.” When Katara didn’t speak, he added: “Are you all right? Is something wrong, Katara?”

She didn’t say.

Zuko looked at her. She had changed, too. Her hair was white, her skin wrinkled. But her eyes were the same. They glowed with that mischief, that thirst for adventure. She’d made every waking moment with him an adventure. He’d been right, all those years ago. With every passing day, she only became more beautiful. More wise. More everything.

Everything about Katara was _enough._

She was enough. She was everything.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she finally said. “I do have some news for you, though.”

That twinkle in her eye scared him and elated him at the same time.

“Good or bad news?”

“Oh, good! I can assure you. I have good news.”

“Great. What is it, then?”

“Weeeell…”

Zuko rolled his eyes at that. Katara was stalling. She loved to make him wait.

And he’d wait forever for her.

“Weeeell?”

“A research expedition has just gone down to the bottom of the ocean to... _Titanic_.” 

He felt like a twenty-year-old boy again upon hearing the word _Titanic._

Zuko rose to his feet. Unable to sit still. Katara’s face was never unreadable to him, not anymore, but she’d always been more adept at reading him. Like an open book. So he had trouble reading that particular expression on her face. 

Teasing. But also… serious? Nostalgic? 

Katara remained stubbornly quiet. With that smile on her face. 

Was she finally going to tell him what was going on?

“There is? They have?” 

“Hm, hm.” She paused for dramatic effect. Katara crossed her arms over her chest. Picture perfect nonchalance. “And… well. This _might_ interest you.”

Again. She was stalling. 

Zuko huffed. 

“And how, pray tell, darling, _might_ this interest me?”

She was silent for some time again. Then Katara’s smile reached her ears. 

“They found our drawing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This epilogue was meant to be short. But as with all things I write, it kind of got out of hand, and now here I am, over 20k words later. As the story of Never Let Me Go wouldn’t… ahem… let me go, I felt like I should write these bits and pieces of Zuko and Katara’s journey after the sinking. So again, here I am! Over 20k words later.
> 
> I know Kanna and Pakku not being together isn’t in line with the show. But honestly, we never get Kanna’s perspective on that relationship (or on anything really, since we never see her again after the first episodes) and knowing that her storyline paralleled Zuko’s… it felt like “what if Rose ended up marrying Cal, 50 years later, by having him show up on her doorstep and say he was sorry?” Especially since Pakku barred Katara from waterbending. He showed us he never learned his lesson. He joined the White Lotus and his sexism was never addressed again.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> I wanted to make this epilogue cute and fluffy. I know History wouldn’t have been kind to Zuko and Katara, not with looming World Wars and racism and immigration laws and colonialism and everything else. But I wanted to imagine a world where they’d be happy. Do you know that scene in Letters to Juliet (another movie that would fit beautifully with a Zutara AU) where Sophie finds Claire’s letter and the Italian ladies say “I think she came back to find her one true love.” “And they had ten children and still make passionate love every night.”? That was the vibe I was going for. (Okay, maybe not EVERY night, but you know what I mean.)
> 
> What did you guys think of the epilogue? Some of my favourite parts are the Chippewa Falls “Southern Water Tribe” sections, btw.
> 
> So. Here we are. At the end of this journey. More than 100 000 words later.
> 
> I started writing this on a whim after asking myself “hey, has anyone written a Zutara Titanic AU?” and when I couldn’t find any online, I wondered if “hey, what if I did?”. I made a post on Tumblr asking people if they wanted to read it and when I got a positive response, I decided to try it out. Some nights later I started, wrote the entire first chapter in one sitting (Asami’s and Old! Katara’s POVs were so fun to write), and I knew I had to keep going. And going. And going. And 6 days later (I once woke up at 4 AM with this need to write, and barely stopped until 10 PM that night!), I had a story of 56 000 words. I re-read it, quickly edited, and started posting. Then as I re-edited one chapter at a time before posting it week after week, this story just kept growing and growing and growing. And now here we are. 
> 
> This is the longest story I’ve ever written. I know I took a lot from Titanic (and ATLA too), from plot to dialogue, but it still is the longest story I’ve ever written. I think this one was years in the making, even if I didn’t know it. I never made a Titanic AU years ago when I was a teenager obsessed with this movie. And I’m glad, because if I had done it years ago, I bet I wouldn’t have done it justice. This fic has also been the main reason why I’ve come back to this movie after many years; it’s still as amazing as always! Also, to me, Titanic is the AU to end all AUs, and it deserved a bit more maturity to write it.
> 
> This fic entertained me during these weird and scary times and I hope I was able to entertain you, too! I’m so proud of this fic and I want to thank everyone who commented, left kudos, bookmarked it, and read it, and who will do so in the future! Also, if you want to leave comments weeks, months, even maybe years from now, go for it! Do so! I read each and every comment I get in my inbox and I try to answer them all. It really means a lot to me to know how (or if!) people liked my story.
> 
> Should I put the happ(ier) ending in the tags? Or should I keep it a surprise? 
> 
> Is there a scene I haven’t drawn you’d like to see? A character I didn't draw? A different shot in a scene I have drawn? Or is there a scene/character/shot you’d like to draw yourself? If you want your art in the gallery, leave me a comment and send it to my Tumblr thevictorianghost! I’d be more than happy to post it
> 
> I’ve started translating this story in French. If anyone else wants to try their hand at translating it in another language, please contact me! I’d love it if more people could read it in their mother tongues.
> 
> Would anyone be interested in any other Zutara AUs? I feel like Letters to Juliet, Ever After (the Drew Barrymore movie!) or even The Greatest Showman would be good contenders for future AUs! Maybe as fanart, maybe as another fic. Who knows? But I’d love to read your suggestions! 
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, about suggestions, translations, or maybe just to fangirl about Zutara or Titanic (or talk about anything else), either comment here or on Tumblr anytime. I don’t bite, I swear!
> 
> Thank you so much,
> 
> thevictorianghost


	16. BONUS: Art Gallery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SPOILERS RIGHT AHEAD!!!
> 
> IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED NEVER LET ME GO, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. 
> 
> You have been warned.

ART GALLERY

* * *

NOT MADE BY ME

* * *

SUNSHINERUE

(This was inspired by my [moodboard](https://thevictorianghost.tumblr.com/post/625656806998491136/never-let-me-go-a-zutara-titanic-au)!)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my art! 
> 
> I rarely draw (like... once a year maybe??) but way back in August, after finishing my fanfic, I still had the hitch to continue to work on it. And I got Clip Studio Paint, which turned out to be the BEST drawing program I could've ever hoped for. So this was born! It was a good challenge. And I may add more in the future! Who knows?
> 
> Is there a scene I haven’t drawn you’d like to see? A character I didn’t draw? A different shot in a scene I have drawn? Or is there a scene/character/shot you’d like to draw yourself? If you want your art to be showcased in the gallery, leave me a comment and send it to my Tumblr thevictorianghost! I’d be more than happy to post it :)
> 
> I'm probably going to post these on Tumblr too! So be on the lookout for that!

**Author's Note:**

> I made a post on Tumblr last week saying I wanted to write a Zutara Titanic AU, not believing it hadn't been written yet. About 6 days later, this 56 000 words fanfiction (a behemoth for me!) was written. I wrote this day and night and I'm immensely proud of this. 
> 
> This will take a lot of Titanic, added scenes by myself, and deleted scenes from Titanic that never made it into the movie. You can watch them on Youtube if you want!
> 
> For the sake of this story, the is no "Avatar". As in, there is no "one person can bend all elements". So let's say, Aang is an airbender and that's it. 
> 
> Also I have never actually watched Legend of Korra, so I'm working off the bits and pieces I've seen and my own assumptions. If something is inherently flawed in the portrayals of the characters, please tell me! 
> 
> ALSO also, I will update the tags according to the latest chapter published. Be prepared for things to shift around until the end. Sorry about that.
> 
> I will be updating this fic once a week, on Wednesdays. It has been fully written and will be completed.
> 
> The title of this fic is inspired by the song "Never let me go" by Florence and the Machine. Lyrics will be used at the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!


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